Here Comes Trouble
by brokenxinsanity
Summary: Oliver Queen spends six weeks recovering from the fight with the Dark Archer. During that time, an old childhood friend of Oliver's shows up, as her father is attempting to join with Queen Consolidated. Oliver soon finds out that the two of them have more in common than just being childhood friends.
1. House Arrest

It was going on a week, being stuck in the house, on bed rest for Oliver Queen. Five more weeks to go. You would think someone could go insane, judging by the massive amount of room and things to do inside the Queen Mansion. But Oliver Queen was slowly going crazy. His mother was out, his sister was at school and Walter was at a business meeting. Diggle was the only one that was around.

"I don't think getting out of bed is the best idea."

"And that's only further proof you've never been stuck in bed before." Oliver remarked as he slowly stood from his bed, cringing.

Diggle only rolled his eyes.

Oliver slowly made his way downstairs, just as the doorbell rang. Diggle answered it and there stood a redhead, her fiery red hair pulled in a ponytail. She was dressed up in New York fashion clothes.

"Oh, hi." She smiled lightly, clearing her throat. "I was looking for Moira Queen, does she live here?"

"That's a pretty dumb question, Mercy." Oliver grinned as he opened the door wider to reveal himself.

"Oliver Queen."

"Cora Mercer."

She glanced at the bruises on his arms before walking up to him and giving him a gentle hug. He responded by pulling her into a strong, firm hug, ignoring the stinging pain that followed.

"What are you doing here?" Oliver asked after he let her go.

"I wanted to move back to Starling City and then my father gets a bug up his ass and suddenly he wants to merge companies with yours... or rather your father's." She shrugged her shoulders lightly. "So I got on a plane and came here to warn Moira about his stupid plan."

Cora's father was never a bright man. He hated the fact that it was Cora's mother that was a favorite to the Queens. No one at the Queen household liked Richard Mercer. Some of them even thought he was into the smuggling of drugs at one point. Needless to say that Cora's life was just as fucked up as Oliver's.

"Do you have a place to stay?"

"A non existent beach house that my father has failed to furnish."

Oliver smirked. "Then you can stay here. I could use some company." He looked over at Diggle. "No offense, Diggle."

He caught Cora's snicker as she hid her face in her hand. Bumping her shoulder with his, Oliver chuckled. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Mercy."

"I'm sorry - It's been a _really _long flight."

"There's extra bedrooms upstairs, if you want to catch a cat nap before your father gets here to destroy the world."

Cora grinned. "He has a tendency to do that, doesn't he? Where's the nearest bedroom?"

"Upstairs, second door on the right."

Cora left them standing there as she headed for the stairs. Oliver followed her with his eyes, shaking his head. When she was out of earshot, Diggle clapped him on the injured shoulder, getting a groan out of Oliver.

"You look like a tiger that's stalking the prey."

"I was just admiring the view. She never used to dress like that, not that I remember. It always used to be a shirt, jeans and converse, not skinny jeans and heels topped with a lace top."

"So you're telling me that she's the only woman in Starling City that you haven't slept with?"

"She wouldn't let me." Oliver grinned as he slowly made his way to the kitchen. "She was the one that I'd get advice from when I needed to get through to Laurel."

"Never saw her that way?"

"I didn't. She was my best friend, Diggle. Her and I would always joke around with each other."

"I can see the joking around part is still intact." Diggle commented, taking a seat on the bar stool at the counter. "What about her father?"

"Mm," Oliver took a bottle of water from the fridge, taking a drink. "He's an ass. He married her mother because she was loaded. When her mother got pregnant, he left. And I'm surprised he's back in her life. He never was a socialite."

"Why do you think he wants with Queen Consolidated?"

"Money. Power. Fame. Who knows?" Oliver lifted his shoulders in a light shrug. "All I know is that her father is a person that you don't want to be standing in front of, because he'll stab you in the back before you can blink."

"And Cora isn't at all like him?"

"Uhuh. Don't go there, Diggle." Oliver shook his head. "Cora takes after her mother. Gentle, kind, and smart."

"Sorry to interrupted." Cora said, standing in the doorway. "I was looking for you, but I didn't think I'd find you in the kitchen, Queen."

"I'm a guy, Mercy."

"This is true." Cora grinned, taking the water bottle from his hands and taking a sip.

"What happened?" Oliver questioned, taking her wrist that held the bottle in his hand. It was a pretty good size bruise going all around her wrist, something like a Indian burn.

"Curling iron."

"You always weren't a very good liar, Mercy."

"I-"

"Oliver, Mr. Diggle?" Moira called out.

Saved by Mrs. Queen, Cora ripped her wrist from Oliver's grip and pulled down her sleeve, hiding the bruise just as Moira walked into the kitchen.

"Oliver, what are you doing out of bed?"

"I was getting stiff, laying in the bed, mother."

"Hi, Mrs. Queen."

"Oh Cora!" Mrs. Queen pulled her into a big hug. "I'm so sorry about your mother."

Oliver's brows drew together. "What happened to her?"

"She died three years ago." Cora replied.

"I'm sorry." Oliver bowed his head slightly at her.

Cora shrugged. "It's okay."

"Well, would you like to stay for dinner?" Moira asked.

Cora pondered the thought for a moment, glancing over at Oliver before turning back toward Moira, nodding lightly. "I'd love to."

* * *

**Author's Note: What do you think? Should I continue? If I get five curious people wanting more I'll continue, so leave a review!**


	2. A New Evil

"Dinner's in an hour."

"Thanks, Mrs. Queen." Cora smiled as Moira left, turning her gaze back at Oliver. "I can imagine the thoughts that are running through her mind right now."

"Good or bad?" Oliver laughed.

"Both." Cora shrugged her shoulders. "Mostly bad."

Cora sat in Oliver's bedroom, on Oliver's bed, so naturally his mother was probably thinking a lot of things.

"So you going to tell me where you got the bruise from?"

Cora's hand instantly went to her wrist.

"I told you, it was a curling iron."

"I find that hard to believe."

"It's the truth."

"Mhm." Oliver looked at her suspiciously.

Something was up. He knew it. He had a feeling there was something she wasn't telling him, but who was he to pry? She didn't know about his double life, or his own scars. Life is an awful, ugly place to not have a best friend and right now, Oliver only knew how to be her friend and wait for her to tell him. They were interrupted by Cora's phone. Glancing at her, Oliver noted the tinge of fear that flickered across her face for a split second.

Cora answered it. "Hello, father."

There was a few moments before Cora hung up the phone, her hands shaking slightly. "I have to go... My-My father wants me to get home, so he can have some company."

She gathered her coat and purse and headed for the door.

"Hey Mercy."

Cora stopped and turned. "Yeah?"

"If you need anything, the door's always open."

She smiled softly at him before leaving, catching Moira coming up the stairs.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Queen, but my father insists I get home to keep him some company."

"Oh that's a shame. Tell your father I said hi."

"Will do!" She was out the door before Moira could ask any more questions.

* * *

It wasn't a long drive, but she managed to get there without any problems, thanking the driver and walking into her building. She climbed the stairs, her heels clicking together against the hardwood floor. She only managed to get through the door before the voice stopped her, sending a shudder down her spine.

"Where were you:?"

"I was out."

"Visiting the Queens?"

"How-"

"My drivers always give me information."

"I only went there to visit Oliver."

"Or did you tell them I had plans with Queen Consolidated?" He was right in her face now, pinning her against the back of the front door. Her hands trembled as they slipped into her pockets, her fingers curling around the keys.

"I didn't tell them anything."

She let out a groan as he grabbed her by the back of the hair, dropping her purse in the process.

"What else did you tell them?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"You're one to talk." Cora hissed as she grabbed a vase, the only thing in the apartment, from the little corner table and swung it, nailing her father clear in the face. He kicked her in the chest, making her fall back against the sofa. She tried to get up, but her father had pounded her chest with his fists, the searing pain running through her veins, burning into her memory.

Richard had gone from her for a split second, before he was back in her face, a knife in his hand.

"Tell me the truth."

"I did!"

"See that's the thing, Cora, I don't believe you."

The knife went against her throat, the cold metal causing a involuntary shiver to wrack her body. She could feel little droplets of blood slowly oozing out of the wound.

"One more time." Richard was in her face again. "What did you tell them?"

"I didn't tell them anything!"

"Wrong answer."

A cry left her lips then as the knife sunk into her abdomen, like a white hot knife cutting through butter. Richard disappeared soon after, fleeing through the emergency exit of the building. She was bleeding profusely, losing her mind quickly. Reaching into her pocket with bloody hands, Cora pulled out of her phone, dialing 911.

She didn't know what time they had gotten to her, she drifted into the darkness shortly after her hands went numb and she dropped the phone.

* * *

"Diggle. What's up?"

"Oliver, The hospital just called. Cora's been attacked."

"Attacked?" Oliver threw the covers off him and stood, ignoring the pain.

"The police are saying it was an inside job, that the attacker was waiting for her."

"Let's go."

"Oliver?" Moira asked as soon as her son came bounding down the stairs.

"I'm headed to Starling General."

"Why?" Moira's face paled.

"It's not for me, mother." Oliver kissed her on the head. "It's Cora."

Oliver left without another question. "I don't care how many lights you have to blow through, Diggle."

"Got it."

* * *

**Author's Note: What did you think? Do you think Cora's father is going to get a visit from 'The Hood'? Reviews are always welcome! **  
**And I'm sorry if this is a bit.. forced, I'm still getting the hang of writing Oliver Queen. (I'm so used to writing about vampires, so forgive me.)**


	3. Hothead

"Female. 24. 130 pounds. Laceration to her abdomen, lost a lot of blood. BP is 100 over 70. Pulse is slow, possibly going into shock. Pupils are barely responsive."

"Alright, let's get her into surgery."

The doctors wheeled her away while one of the paramedics went up to the receptionist. "Cora Mercer, she's just been taken into surgery, asked for someone to call Oliver Queen. Did anyone get a hold of him?"

"Yes. He should be here shortly."

"Let me know when he does, will you? I'll be in the supply closet."

"Sure."

It wasn't long before Oliver Queen walked through the double doors of the emergency room entrance and stood at the receptionist desk.

"I'm looking for Cora Mercer, I was told she was brought in."

"She's still in surgery."

"What happened?"

"She lost massive amounts of blood, it's amazing she even survived by the time paramedics arrived. We were lucky that we got to her in time, otherwise, she'd be dead."

"Thank you."

The nurse smiled before Oliver turned his back, grabbing Diggle's shoulder and pulling him off into a deserted corridor.

"Give me the key."

"You told me not to until you were healed."

"I don't give a damn what I said before." Oliver held out his hand. "Hand it over before I snap your neck."

"Cora said that she was meeting her father. Her father just so happens to be Richard Mercer, the biggest douchebag of all time and I'm willing to bet my fortune that he had something to do with this. Or he was the target. I'm betting more on the first option."

"Oliver-"

"Give me the damn key, Diggle."

Diggle reluctantly handed Oliver the key after a few moments of hesitation. "What's so important about this girl?"

After a few moments, Oliver spoke. "She was the only one that saw through my bullshit."

"You love her."

"That's redundant."

A few nurses walked by pushing a patient, but the fire red hair didn't go unnoticed. Oliver followed them until they got to a room.

"How is she?"

"The sedative will wear off soon enough."

Oliver stepped through the room and took a seat beside her bed, the beeping of the heart monitor was the only indication that she was alive. Her breathing was shallow and if Oliver had to take a guess, he'd say that the oxygen wasn't helping much. He was about to stand, to find Richard Mercer when Cora woke.

"Ease, Mercy." Oliver took her hand in his and brushed a few stray strands of hair away from her face. "Who did this?"

"I-"

"There's enough water under the bridge that I can keep a secret, Mercy."

Cora's eyes filled with tears. Whether it was from the pain or from something else, Oliver didn't know. "My father." Her reply was barely above a whisper.

"Why?"

"He killed my mother." Cora swallowed thickly. "She wanted to divorce him, so he killed her. Ever since then... he's had it out for me." Gingerly, Cora lifted the blankets away from her body, curling the hospital gown between her fingers as she inched it up, revealing her body, from her breasts down, covered in welts, bruises, scars and anything else someone could imagine.

Suddenly, he was sure that the island wasn't half as bad as what Cora went through.

"He's been trying to kill me.."

Oliver's fingertips ran over a healed scar that was an angry line just above her hip. "You've met Diggle before, he's going to be here, watching your room, incase your father comes back." Oliver covered her body with the gown and then pulled the blankets over her. "You're safe here, Mercy."

At first, Cora could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him? It's likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting.

Years ago, when they'd raced on a muddy field, Oliver was a hastily assembled strong set of bones, with a jagged, rocky smile. He was her best friend.

Oliver couldn't help but see her in a new light then. Well, it seems to that the best relationships - the ones that last - are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. One day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is... suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with. That's how he felt. He wanted to brush away her fears.

Especially the one that he had a feeling he was starting to figure out.

That was the thing about best friends. Like sisters and mothers, they could piss you off and make you cry and break your heart, but in the end, when the chips were down, they were there, picking you up even in your darkest hours.

Cora only nodded at him before he walked out of the room, meeting Diggle on the way out. "Watch her. Keep an eye on this room, if anyone comes by, you call security. I don't care who they are, if you don't know who they are, you do not let them by."

* * *

**Author's Note: Richard Mercer is officially on Arrow's hit list! Tell me what you think, leave comments, give me your thoughts on where you think the story is going, or comment on how much you like the story. I don't care, I just want to hear what you guys think about it! :) 3 **

**And for those of you who are questioning if Cora has a sister named Tess (aka: Tess Mercer from Smallville), I won't give anything away, but there may or may not be a chance that Tess Mercer will show up in Starling City. It's a 50/50 toss up. (:**


	4. Hourglass

Richard Mercer lay on the roof of Queen Consolidated, an arrow in his hand. The hood was right behind him, pushing through the pain that was circulating in his leg. His pain medication was wearing off. "Richard Mercer, you failed this city."

He pointed the bow and arrow at him, the rage building in the pit of his stomach. How could this idiot be alive and walking around the city, while his own daughter was laid up in the hospital, suffering from wounds that he inflicted on her? Another arrow left the bow and planted itself into Richard Mercer's leg. Oliver set another arrow up and pointed it directly at Richard Mercer's abdomen, very much ready to inflict the same wound he did on Cora.

"Who are you?" Richard yelled, trying to pull the arrow out of his leg.

Oliver's smirk only grew. "I'm your worst nightmare."

He released the arrow and it shot right through his abdomen.

"You'll survive, but you have twenty-four hours to leave Starling City for good." He left Richard Mercer laying there, in a pool of his own blood. If he was lucky, Mercer would be dead by the time someone found him. That would be good justice.

* * *

Back at Starling General, Thea was keeping Cora company while Diggle watched outside. Gingerly, Cora pulled herself into a sitting position.

"Here." Oliver said, arriving in time as he stacked her pillows so she could sit comfortably.

"Thanks."

"Thea give you any problems?" Oliver questioned.

He cringed when Thea hit him in the side. Cora gave him a look. He knew that look all too well. It was the same look that his own mother questioned him with. "Thea.. could you give us a minute?" Cora asked.

Thea nodded silently and left the room.

"Okay, Oliver, what happened to you?" Cora asked as soon as Thea was out of the room.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit. I'm calling your bluff, like you said, there's enough water under the bridge for me to keep secrets for you."

There was the fire he remembered. It was good to know that it hadn't been extinguished in her yet.

"It is absolutely okay with me if you need to keep some secrets. I've been thinking about this and I decided that a best friend is someone who, when they don't understand, they still understand." Cora whispered.

"Mercy.." Oliver sighed and turned toward the door, locking it. They were high up enough that no one from the outside could see them through the windows. He turned back around to see Cora looked at him with curiosity. Slowly, Oliver began unbuttoning his shirt, one after another until he got to the end, and stripped off the shirt. He saw Cora's eyes widen, but she took it better than anyone else had that caught a glimpse of his scars. "You're not the only one that has been through hell."

"I can see that." Cora replied, throwing the covers off her and swinging her legs over the bed. She was going to attempt to stand when Oliver was right there, standing in front of her. She reached over to touch his scars, hesitant.

"You can touch them." Oliver asked her silent question.

Her fingertips were cool against his skin, her fingers barely touching his scar. It left a tingling feeling when she pulled her hand away.

"What happened to you on that island?"

"Too many things to count." Oliver replied. "What happened to you in New York?"

"Too many things to count." Cora repeated as she tore her gaze away from Oliver's torso and looked up at him.

"I'm not saying I'm glad it happened. Not exactly. But I'm not sorry to be the person I am today, and to have the life I have now. Even though it's not what I thought I wanted for my future, five years ago, it is what I want now."

Cora cringed and her hand flew to her side. She glanced at the IV bag and sighed. Oliver followed her gaze and chuckled.

"I know the feeling." He helped Cora lay back down and adjusted her covers over her.

"Such an ingenious invention. Who ever invented pain killers, I could kiss them." Cora leaned to one side, it made the pain more bearable.

"I could get your nurse."

"No." Cora shook her head. "I can handle it for a little while. Lets me know I'm still alive and can feel something." She waved her hand at him. "Besides, those nurses were driving me up a wall, coming in every five seconds, asking me if I need anything. I wanted to chuck a vase at their heads."

Oliver couldn't hide his laugh.

"Don't laugh. It's not fair when I can't join in on the laughing."

"I think you have a right to whine. Honestly, Mercy. We all have the right to whine when life gets tough."

"Even when you feel like you got hit by a Mac truck and it backed up to make sure it finished the job?"

Oliver nodded, grinning.

When you're living your life in endurance mode, you don't expect anything good to happen. I'm not saying that you don't dream about some miracle that would change everything for the better. But you pretty much know it's only a fantasy, and that you have no real control over anything.

"Ollie, the events I've lived through taught me to be sure of nothing about other people. They taught me to expect danger around every corner. They taught me to understand that there are people in this world that mean you harm, And sometimes, they're the people who say they love you. My father was one of those people."

Oliver took a seat next to her legs on the bed. "Nothing that had happened in the past could be taken away. This was an amazing gift, if you looked hard enough. The past was done and over and settled; you couldn't get it back, but still, whatever good you had gotten from it, spiritually, emotionally, would be yours for your lifetime. Your father might have been an ass, but what did it teach you? It taught you to be strong, right? I can see it right now, that you have a thick outer layer of skin. It's what keeps you alive, Mercy."

Cora smiled softly at him and took his hand in hers. He replied by squeezing her hand in reassurance.

"You might want to unlock the door and button your shirt before they get the wrong idea."

Oliver chuckled and did was he was told.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, it seems like Cora has been keeping track of Oliver's existence over the years. Richard Mercer has 24 hours to leave Starling City. Do you think he'll do it? What do you think of the idea of Oliver Queen and Cora Mercer? Leave your comments below! :)**

**And also, what will Cora think of her father's attack? Do you think she'll have a run-in with the Hood?**


	5. Legacy

"You ready to get outta here?" Oliver asked as he walked into Cora's hospital room. A week had went passed and surprisingly, it had passed quickly. Cora couldn't sleep the night before, excited to be getting out. He had brought her some clothes the night before, a pair of old track pants and an over sized shirt. He was shocked at how she fit in them.

"Yeah." She watched as the nurse took her IV out and slapped a band-aid on her hand. She left a moment later, smiling and waving goodbye to Cora.

"You sure you want to walk out on your own?"

"Yes." Cora nodded. "I've been married to that bed for a week, I want a divorce."

Oliver chuckled as he grabbed her bag and threw it over his shoulder before taking Cora's hand and leading her out. There was no one hassling them as they walked out. It was peaceful.

"You're coming home with me, by the way." Oliver mentioned as they were getting in the car.

"Oliver-"

"No." He shook his head. "None of that."

Cora shut up after that, figuring it was best to not argue with the great Oliver Queen, the misfit in a world of fire. She was hardly able to believe that she was alive. But it was true, what Oliver had told her, she was strong. She refused to die. The human instinct for self-preservation is strong. she knew, because hers pulls at her, too, like the needle on a compass. And everybody - She'd been reading some philosophy - everybody seems to agree that the instinct and responsibility of all humans is to take care of themselves first. You have the right to self-defense. You have the right to survive, if you can. She refused to go down without a fight.

They sat there in silence, the whole car ride back to the Queen Mansion, lost in their own thoughts. The best kind of friend is the kind you sit with, never say a word and walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you ever had. The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. They are the ones _that care_.

The best men tell you the truth because they think you can take it; the worst men either try to preserve you in some innocent state with their false protection, or are 'brutally honest.' When someone tells, lets you think for yourself, experience your own emotions, he is treating you as a true equal, a friend…And the best men cook for you.

A true grin graced her lips then at the thought of Oliver Queen making her a five star meal after been stuck on an island for five years.

Oliver snuck his hand into hers that rest on her lap and intertwined his fingers with hers.

He loved her.

Oliver Queen, her best friend since childhood was in love with her. He didn't say it but she knew that it was true.

And the part that really freaked her out, the part that caught her completely off guard, is that he wasn't alone. Because even though she'd been denying it for a long, long time, it had always been there... waiting beneath the surface of their friendship. And now that it was out there, now that they had seen each other's scars, there was no going back.

And it was so weird to even be thinking it but... she was in love with him too.

* * *

When they reached the Queen Mansion, the first thing Cora did was head toward her room, after Oliver told her which one it was, of course. Oliver had followed her and raised an eyebrow.

She had stripped off the shirt he'd give her, leaving her in her bra.

"I need to do something that doesn't require sitting in a bed for the majority of the month."

"They told you to take it easy."

"Yes, they did." Cora replied. "I'm willing to bet they told you the same thing." She did a one foot high jump and grabbed onto the top of the door frame, crossing her ankles and doing a few pull ups, ignoring the stinging pain that ripped through her.

"I don't remember ever seeing you be able to do a pull up."

"Well you said it so yourself, Oliver," She let go and landed on her feet. "I have a thick outer layer of skin, I'm strong. And I'm certainly not going to sit around while my father possibly knows where I'm at. I refuse to hide, Oliver. Hiding is what ended up killing my mother."

_She was an idiot. An adorable, gorgeous, feisty, funny, sweet, sexy idiot._ Oliver thought, rolling his eyes.

She was his best friend. That's the thing about best friends. That's what they do. They keep you from spinning off the edge. Oliver had to keep her from spinning off the edge.

"Would it help if you knew your father was attacked a few hours after you were, by the guy they call 'The Hood'?"

She stopped then and looked at him. "What?"

"Super hero vigilante. Police call him The Hood. Rather lame, if you ask me." He couldn't just come right out with it, could he? No, that would scare her off. He had to be subtle, build up to it. Explain himself.

She acted completely on instinct, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around him. He was unresponsive for a long beat, as though she'd taken him by surprise, then his arms went around her in turn.

Her breasts were pressed to his chest and every breath she took was filled with the smell of his aftershave but there was nothing sexual about their embrace. He was offering her a little comfort, and she was accepting it. It was as small and simple as that.

Or maybe not.

He leaned closer and she swallowed the rest of her words as he pressed a kiss to her lips. He was strong and warm and male and his mouth moved gently against hers, his kiss provocative and soothing at the same time. He lifted his head slightly and looked into her eyes. She stared back at him, stunned, her heart thudding against her breastbone, the adrenaline forcing any pain she had to the deepest part of her mind. He palmed the nape of her neck, and then he was kissing her again, his tongue sweeping into her mouth this time, turning her legs to jelly.

She pressed her body against his, her skin on fire, desire beating a tattoo through her veins. His tongue stroked hers gently, provocatively, and she reached out and gripped his shoulders with both hands.

After a long, long moment he drew back and together, they stared at each other, attempting to figure out what the hell just happened.

* * *

**Author's Note: Oh damn. What'd you guys think? Oliver told Cora about her father being attacked. You think she'll put two and two together down the road and figure out his secret before he has a chance to tell her? How about that kiss, huh? Leave your comments below! :)**


	6. The Secret

Nothing on this planet can compare with a woman's love, it is kind and compassionate, patient and nurturing, generous and sweet and unconditional. Pure. If you are her man, she will walk on water and through a mountain for you, too, no matter how you've acted out, no matter what crazy thing you've done, no matter the time or demand. If you are her man, she will talk to you until there just aren't any more words left to say, encourage you when you're at rock bottom and think there just isn't any way out, hold you in her arms when you're sick, and laugh with you when you're up.

And if you're her man and that woman loves you - _really loves you _- she will shine you up when you're dusty, encourage you when you're down, defend you even when she's not so sure you were right, and hang on your every word, even when you're not saying anything worth listening to. And no matter what you do, no matter how many times her friends say you're no good, no matter how many times you slam the door on the relationship, she will give you her very best and then some, and keep right on trying to win over your heart, even when you act like everything she's done to convince you she's _The One_ just isn't good 's a woman's love - it stands the test of time, logic, and all circumstance.

Oliver sat in the corner, watching Cora put her frustration in taking the boxing bag out. She punched - left, right, right left, until her fists hurt. Her body was dripping with sweat, her mind focused on the target in front of her and not at him. Hell, she hadn't even heard him come in.

"Boo."

"Jesus!" Cora spun around, ready to knock him on his ass.

Oliver simply grinned at her as he held out a towel.

"Scared the the hell out of me."

"I'm convinced that you would do well against an attacker. The look was enough to send me running for the hills."

Cora rolled her eyes and draped the towel over her shoulder.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm sore - nothing I can't handle."

He followed her out of the basement and ran into Moira on the way out.

"Oh, hi Moira."

"You should be resting." She gave a stern glance at Cora, before looking at Oliver. "As should you."

Oliver simply wrapped his arm around Cora's waist and smiled. "That's where we're headed." They side stepped Moira and headed upstairs.

"We?"

"It's best to just shut up and do what she says."

"You remember when we used to play pranks on people when we were kids?"

"I can't forget." Oliver grinned, leaning against the door frame. "The time you pushed Kara Matthews into the pool back in seventh grade was funny."

"Yeah, but that was _after _I dunked her in sticky paste and poured a bunch of feathers on her."

"I think the whole seventh grade remembers it."

"Well anyway, I was thinking of playing a prank again."

"Oh?"

Cora nodded as she ripped the bandage from her stomach, cringing.

"Here." Oliver grabbed a first aid kit as Cora leaned back on her elbows. He filled a gauze pad with rubbing alcohol and gently rubbed it over her stitches. Cora hissed in response.

"So what's this prank you want to play?"

"Oh, that." Cora smirked. "I heard you and your mother talking about Laurel Lance earlier, when you were downstairs eating breakfast. I heard she rejected you and went over to Tommy."

"I wasn't too surprised. I didn't expect anyone to stop going about their daily lives because I returned."

After he was done patching up her stitches once again, Cora sat up and took his hands into hers.

"I was thinking, if you really want to show her that you're over her, then I have an idea."

"What is this idea? I'm afraid to ask, actually."

"We could pretend we're engaged." Cora grinned at Oliver's expression. "You could hold a party and you can get down on one knee and I'll even lend you my mother's ring and slap the expression right off Dinah Lance's face."

"That..." Oliver laughed. "That is going at the top of your list of Top Ten Pranks, Mercy."

"Are you in?"

"On one condition."

"Uh oh."

"It's not bad," Oliver gave her a pointed glance. "You just have to let me pick out your dress."

Cora's nose scrunched up in the cute way that Oliver remembered.

"Are you kidding me? A dress, Oliver?"

"A dress, Mercy."

Her lips turned down in a frown.

Sometimes it isn't easy to be sane, smart, and responsible. Sometimes it sucks. But that doesn't turn wrong into right or stupid into smart. He tried to deny that he felt something for her. If he let her in, even just for a little bit, there was nothing that would protect him from her. So he kept denying.

Everything was perfectly healthy and normal here in Denial Land.

He really wanted to sit there and tell her _It's been a long time since I've loved someone, but I know what it feels like. When you turn from me, it hurts. When you think badly of me, I think badly of myself. When you do stupid, suicidal things, I want to slap you upside the head and demand to know how you can be so brilliant and so blind at the same time._

If that's not love, what is it?

Cora noticed his far away expression and tore him out of it.

"Do you know how long I've been telling myself you hated me? Or how hard it's been to keep believing it? Our bridge was nearly burnt to the ground the last time I saw you, the last time I yelled at you for going on a cruise with Sarah. I hated you that moment, that your boat didn't come back. You'd do things, these amazing, insane things, like stealing me back from your old highschool enemy or breaking me out of jail, and I'd say, 'Oh, he just wants to pay his debts'." Her voice broke a little on the last word.

Oliver's eyes widened, hope kindling in their depths. "What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is, your secret is safe with me, _The Hood_." Her lips turned up in a smirk. "I prefer Green Arrow, though."

Oh hell.

Cora dug a piece of paper out of her pocket and held it out to him, it was a drawing of The Hood.

"I'm not as stupid as I look, Oliver." Cora took his face in her hands. "You suck at covering your tracks. When you said my father was attacked right after I was, and then _you _were no where to be found after you said I was safe at the hospital, I began putting two and two together."

"You always were a clever one, Mercy."

He pulled one hand up, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. His fingers were shaking. That was what she focused on, more than anything else. His fingers were shaking.

"I promise I won't tell anyone."

Oliver leaned his forehead against hers. "I have my faith in you, Mercy."

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, with the holidays right around the corner, I haven't had the time and probably won't have the time for another update until after the holidays. But, how'd you like that ending? DUN, DUN, DUN. Cora knows about Oliver's double identity. As always, leave some reviews!**


	7. Surprise!

Cora Mercer had been trying on three dresses that had been waiting for her on when she woke. Oliver Queen had went all out. No surprise there, since he was a billionaire. Looking for the price tags though, proved to be more difficult than she would have liked. Then she found a little note inside the third box, from Oliver.

_Mercy,_

_Don't try and look for the price tags, they're burning in the fireplace as you read this. You always were a heckler for not-so-expensive things._

_- Oliver._

_PS: The party starts at seven, tonight. _

_Damn him_.

Oliver Queen sure knew how to go all out for a prank that wasn't even his idea.

* * *

Meanwhile, Oliver was tracking down Richard Mercer's movements. He had gotten wind of his return from Diggle, who picked him up on a security camera. He knew Richard Mercer was stupid, but he didn't think he was _this _stupid. That's the one thing he learned on that island, the one thing he was _really_ good at.

At his core, he _wasn't _a hero. he was a _hunter_.

He had jumped off the roof and grabbed Richard Mercer by the collar. "I thought I made myself clear that you were to leave Starling City for good?"

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be." Oliver hissed. "Because I'm a hunter. This is _my_ town and creeps like you are an _endangered species._"

"What makes you so better than the rest of us?"

"I don't smuggle money from the Russians." Oliver countered. "And what would happen if they found out? You think they'd be as forgiving as me?" He shoved Mercer up against the wall. "Tell you what, I'm a fair man. So I'm going to let you start running. When you're a dozen yards away, I'll try to bring you down. You could get lucky. I might miss this time."

Richard Mercer wasted no time in running like a mouse scared shitless from a cat.

It was actually pretty funny.

You know, just when he started to think there's hope for mankind. He runs into guys like Richard Mercer, and his faith in human nature is restored. He can feel it. The city. Something in the rhythm that flows with your blood. Nights like this, it calls. Wouldn't do any good to try to avoid it. Somewhere out there, it's happening. That moment of excitement... danger. The rush. It's just a question of finding it.

And he had found it.

The arrow had gotten lodged in Richard Mercer's shoulder and he went down like a stripper on a street corner.

He disappeared soon after, but not before he yanked the arrow out with force, the groan of pain coming from Mercer was satisfying.

Now, he had to get ready for the party.

* * *

"Well you look handsome." Cora said as he stepped into her room. "You clean up nicely. Glad to see that island hasn't changed your sense of style."

"I like to think of it as an elegant weapon for a more sophisticated time." Oliver smirked.

"My father is splattered all over the news again." Cora muttered softly.

"I'll tell you one thing - if I could turn back the clock... _I'd kill that bastard all over again_. "

It brought a slight smile to Cora's face.

"Come on," Oliver held his hand out for her to take.

She set her hand in his and together, he led her out of the room and downstairs to the party that was well in full swing by the time they reached the end of the stairs. It wasn't that they were late.

They were _fashionable late_.

"When is this prank going down?" Cora whispered through her teeth as they glided through the party, arm in arm.

Oliver had leaned toward her ear, his breath tickling her neck as he whispered. "When you least expect it."

That just made the butterflies flutter faster in her stomach.

"Merlyn and Lance are together." Cora muttered, inclining her head to where the two of them stood.

Jealousy rose high in Cora as Laurel walked toward them with Tommy.

"Oliver."

"Laurel." He nodded his head once.

Then Laurel looked at Cora.

"You look familiar."

"I better," Cora smiled tightly. "You dated my brother Vincent Mercer."

Oliver had forgotten all about Vincent. Vincent was the blonde haired, brown eyes half brother of Cora. Her mother had been married before Richard, until a car accident took her husband's life, leaving Cora's mother with a five year old boy. Vincent had taken over his mother and father's billion dollar company called Star Labs and traveled the world. But he was also a part-time paramedic, something that kept him grounded from all the money that he accuired. Something told him that Cora never told her big brother about her father abusing her.

"Right. Vince." Laurel nodded. "How is he?"

"He's in Paris right now, working a big million dollar deal to build another Star Labs in France." Cora tight smile never moved.

"That's Vince for you."

Cora's tight smile moved up in a sarcastic one, before she excused herself from Oliver. Tommy had given Laurel a glance as Oliver turned on his heel and followed Cora. Oliver only had to take a few strides to catch up to Cora, who was shaking.

"What's the matter?"

"She used my brother." Cora said tightly. "He funded some project while they were together and as soon as the money hit her hand, she split from him."

Now Oliver understood why Cora's hands were shaking.

It was now or never.

He turned toward the crowd and cleared his throat, making sure that Laurel was watching, got down on one knee, pulling out a box out of his pocket and holding it out to her.

Needless to say, Cora's expression was one of a kind.

"Marry me, Cora Mercer." Oliver blurted out in front of everyone, the room growing eerily quiet, waiting for her to answer him.

When Cora glanced down at him, she caught a glance at the ring. It wasn't her mother's ring. It was a completely different ring. White gold with diamonds. It was outrageous. Her heart thudded in her chest at a rate of two hundred miles an hour.

"Why?" She asked, challenging him.

She apparently had caught on to his own scheme.

"Because I love you," he says quietly, only to her, while he took her hand in his. "And I want to go to sleep with you every night and wake up with you next to me. I want you to be the mother of my children, I want to fix cars with you and protect you with my life. I want to climb mountains with you and be challenged by you. Marry me, because without you I'd be six feet under … and because you're my best friend and I want to grow old with you." He started tearing up, and it's shocked her to her core, because she's never seen him cry. _Ever._ "Marry me, Cora Mercer, because when you got hurt, the only thing I was thinking about was making you my wife. Say yes."

Cora's own eyes misted a little as she nodded, letting him slip the ring on his finger. He stood and pulled her small frame to him, wrapping his arms around her as she wrapped her arms around his neck, the crowd exploding in cheers. He caught a glimpse of his mother and Walter, standing next to Thea, looking as thought they thought he'd lost his mind completely now.

But that didn't matter.

Because now, no one would ever hurt Cora Mercer again.

* * *

**Author's Note: DUN DUN DUN, seems like Cora's little prank idea went _very _differently. Did you see the twist coming? Oliver Queen is just full of surprises. Can you guess who Vincent Mercer is based on? I'll give you one clue - He played on Smallville as the original superhero. ;D and I've always been tempted to add him to this story. Can you guess who Vincent Mercer is based upon now? Vincent isn't one that takes shit from anyone - he has his own mind, so what do you think is gonna happen if he finds out that his baby sister has been abused by her father? - ****I hope you guys had a happy holiday! Merry Christmas everyone! As always, reviews are much appreciated. I love each and every one! (:**


	8. Revenge

The good news is that he can hear sirens two blocks away. The bad news is the Mercer's followers don't give up easily. But neither does he. Then he realize the last suit is coming in so fast that any shot he took was going to go through him. And the only angle he has is at his head. And that's when he remembered what an arrow does to anatomy. How it tears through organs, arteries and fragments bones. When he said he had forgotten those little experiments, he wasn't lying. The problem is that he's done some things lately that he's not proud of, and he's started remembering them again. Richard Mercer had hired bodyguards. Apparently the threat that the Hood gave him the second time was enough to set his ass on fire.

Oliver stayed silent on the roof, watching from afar. Whatever deal Richard Mercer was getting himself into, Oliver didn't know. There was no telling what Richard Mercer was going to do, he was as dangerous as a Russian.

And even that was giving him too much credit.

"I'm busy, Diggle." Oliver said as soon as his finger hit the button on the bluetooth.

"Then it's a good thing I'm not Diggle." Cora's voice floated through.

"How'd you get this number?"

"I pick pocketed Diggle."

A wicked smirk covered Oliver's lips.

He wasn't kidding himself. He knew the reality of the situation. The reality is that people like him don't have children - they were children, dressed up and playing cowboys and Indians with real bullets and real arrows, but there was a part of him that really believed he'd give it all up, just by hearing her voice.

There are things he needed to ask her. Not what happened, back then in the time he lost, because now he knows that. He needed to ask her why. If she remembers. Perhaps she's forgotten the bad things, what she said to him, what she did. Or she does remember them, but in a minor way, as if remembering a game, or a single prank, a single trivial secret, of the kind girls tell and then forget. She will have her own version. He was not the centre of her story, because she herself is that. But he could give her something she can never have, except from another person: what she looked like from outside. A reflection. This is part of herself he could give back to her. They were like the twins in old fables, each of whom has been given half a key.

"What's my pathetic excuse for a father doing?"

Oliver sat stunned for a few moments before gaining his senses back.

"How do you know what I'm doing?"

"Diggle told me."

Oliver rolled his eyes and suddenly, he was wishing he hadn't asked Diggle to be his right hand man.

Then again, against Cora, Oliver knew Diggle stood no chance.

"You know, you seem to have more issues than Rolling Stone." Cora continued through the other line. "Because you forgot that you were supposed to have dinner with your family a half hour ago and here I am, stuck playing your fiance and making up excuses that even Diggle can't untangle, let alone your own mother."

A few profanities later, Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Wait, pretending to be my fiance? Cora-"

"Forget it, Queen. Just get your ass back here in one piece so I can kill you myself for being late."

She hung up the phone not a second later and Oliver sighed. She still didn't think it was real. It was real for him, but she still thought it was the prank they were going about. It had been a week - a whole week and Cora Mercer didn't figure it out yet that Oliver Queen was in love with her. Life is about change. Sometimes it's painful, sometimes it's beautiful, but most of the time it's both.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Oliver left the rooftop - ignoring the rest of Richard Mercer's conversation and headed back toward home.

* * *

Cora hung up the phone, shaking her head. Part of her, part of her wished it was true, the other part of her knew it was just a prank. Part of her told her: _You can't just sit safely by the water and watch all the happy people splashing around. I mean, eventually you have to grow some fins and just dive in. _Another part of her told to stay on the sidelines. It was a interal war against sides that she didn't even knew she had.

The greatest weapon anyone can use against us is our own mind; by praying on the doubts and uncertainties that already lurk there. Are we true to ourselves, or do we live for the expectations of others? And if we are open and honest, can we ever truly be loved? Can we find the courage to release our deepest secrets? Or in the end are we all unknowable?…Even to ourselves. Doubt is a disease. It infects the mind creating a mistrust of people's motives and of one's own perceptions. Doubt has the ability to call into question everything you've ever believed about someone and reinforce the darkest suspicions of our inner circles.

She wanted to extract revenge against her father. And hopefully, she'd do just that, when she could get away. She had hired a bodyguard and gave him all the things that she knew her father would want and now, she was in on all her father's dirty little secrets. Not that she didn't already knew of all of her father's secrets. She learned a lesson. You can't run away from evil men. You must turn and fight them, with weapons we understand. We must always fight them.

Cora Mercer was going to make sure her father suffered.

Anger ventilated often hurries towards forgiveness; anger concealed often hardens into revenge. Love has its place, as does hate. Peace has its place, as does war. Mercy has its place, as do cruelty and revenge. It is a revenge the devil sometimes takes upon the virtuous, that he entraps them by the force of the very passion they have suppressed and think themselves superior to. Cora was going to trap her father in the very thing that he couldn't let himself get rid of; Power.

Pressing the number on her cellphone, Cora waited until the voice on the other line picked up.

"It's me." She spoke quietly. "I wanted to know when you were getting off and would be able to come back to Starling City. Call me back."

She hung up the phone not a second later.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry for the late update, can you forgive me? I've been busy after the holidays and it's only getting more and more aggressively busy. | But anyway, what'd you guys think? What do you think Cora has up her sleeve? Who'd she call? Let me know your thoughts! Reviews are appreciated! :) **


	9. Temptation

It wasn't but a few hours later, while Cora was sitting next to Moira, when her phone went off. Oliver shot her a glance as she excused herself and once she was out of earshot, Cora picked up the phone.

"What did you find out?"

"Your father met with the Russians to bring massive amounts of assault weapons to Starling City."

"That's just great." Cora shook her head in disgust. "Keep me posted, I'm not paying you an outrageous amount of money just so you could stand around, got it?"

"Yes ma'am."

She pressed another button on the phone.

"Cora Mercer."

"You sound so professional, Mercy."

"Vincent." Cora grinned. "Why are you calling so late? It's like... four am in Paris."

"Funny thing -" Cora could hear the grin in his voice. "I just landed back in Starling City."

"Really?"

"Mhm, now, do your big brother a favor and come pick him up."

"You mean to tell me the billionaire of a multiple use lab can't buy his own ride?"

"I was doing it because I missed my baby sister, thank you."

"I'm only kidding, Vince, don't get your boxers in a bunch." She checked her watch and nodded. "I'll be there in thirty."

"That's what I like to hear."

"Bye." Cora rolled her eyes and hung up the phone. She walked back into the dining room. "I'm sorry, Moira, but I have to go, I have to go get someone from the airport."

"Who?" Thea asked, just as Cora had grabbed her purse and fished around for her keys.

"Vincent - my brother."

She picked up the keys and grinned, excusing herself. Oliver excused himself too and followed Cora to the Aston Martin that sat in the parking garage.

"You don't have to come with." Cora said as she pulled the driver's door open. "I don't need a bodyguard."

"No," Oliver got in the passenger side. "But it'd give us some alone time, to talk about things."

The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference. And that's all Cora felt. Indifference. How could she had gone and opened her big mouth to this prank? She was so stupid.

"So what was with the attitude on the phone earlier?"

"When?" Cora asked as watched the Queen Mansion slowly disappear.

"You know when." Oliver countered. "Cora, I wasn't kidding when I asked you to marry me."

"...excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Why? It was all just a prank, Ollie. Why would you want to be tied to me?"

"You think I'm kidding?"

Cora nodded silently.

"Fine," Oliver said without hesitation. He was surprised at how quickly and easily the word came out. His mouth spread into a broad, wicked smile. "I don't have anything going on tomorrow, do you?"

"I'm callin' your bluff." Cora glanced at him for a second before returning her attention to the road.

"Okay," He said, reaching in his pocket for his phone. "Hi, Kara, Oliver Queen, listen, I need a really big favor." He said, watching her reaction closely. "I need a chapel reserved, please. Tomorrow. Hmmmmm...," He looked at Cora, waiting for her to change her mind. "Just the close family and friends. I'll email you the list. Thank you."

The longer she let him stay on the phone, the wider his smile became. Soon after, he hung up the phone and then, just like he said, he emailed the wedding planner a list of important people to invite. The expression on her face was priceless, it was a look of surprise and shock mixed together. As if she were about to say; _I can't believe you just did that. _

He did.

There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment. Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own. Oliver Queen was going to make Cora Mercer his wife, which ever way she wanted.

Richard Mercer wouldn't be able to touch her.

People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.

A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.

A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master.

"Well... that was weird."

"What's so bad about me wanting to marry you?"

"Because, I don't know why you'd want someone like you."

"No, see, the question to that is why _wouldn't _I want someone like you." Oliver countered.

Cora parked in the parking lot and got out, ignoring his reply. "I just don't see why I'm special."

"You are special, because you have been through hell and you're still standing." Oliver replied as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

It didn't take long to spot Vincent. He was waiting for them by the baggage claim and when he spotted Cora, a big grin crossed his face. "If it isn't my baby sister." He hugged her with one arm, and then playfully shoved Oliver with the other. "I see you brought Queen with you."

"It's only fitting, since she's my fiancé." Oliver smirked.

"Really?" Vincent let his sister go and looked at her. "Don't tell me he got you pregnant."

"Ugh." Cora groaned and shoved her brother as he laughed. She went to pick up his bag and Vincent stopped her. "Oh no. I got it. Go. Walk. You have to catch me up on everything I missed."

"You missed a lot." Oliver muttered.

Cora rolled her eyes and began walking, leaving the two of them behind her.

"What's wrong with her?"

Oliver laughed and slapped Vince on the back. "It's a long story."

* * *

**Author's Note: Dun, dun, dun. Oliver Queen called Cora Mercer's bluff. What do you guys think? Leave your thoughts below! Reviews are awesome! :) This will probably be the last update until the new year, so hope you enjoy it! Also, a little side note, Happy New Year's to all my followers! I just wanted to thank all of you out there in cyberspace for putting up with my craziness and allowing me to share my stories with you. I hope you guys have a rockin' New Year's and be safe! Celebrate the beginning of the new year with responsibility! Don't drink & drive and don't text & drive!**


	10. Best Laid Plan

Cora sat near the fire, watching her brother and Oliver secretly chit chat, occasionally looking up to glance at her. Sometimes, things never change. There came a time in everyone's life when they realized that in spite of how hard they'd been running from themselves, everywhere they went, there they were: Addictions and compulsions were nothing but marching bands of distraction, masking truths that were unpleasant, but ultimately undeniable. As much as we have free choice, absolute destiny is immutable. What is meant to happen does, through one measure or another.

Honestly, free will was such bullshit.

She was expecting Oliver to change his mind and cancel the whole thing. But no. The added ring on her finger was further proof that Oliver Queen was not kidding.

Not by a long shot.

You don't love someone because of beauty. You love them because they sing a song only you can understand. You love them because they complete you in a way that no one else could. Only love of a good woman will make a man question every choice, every action. Only love makes a warrior hesitate for fear that his lady will find him cruel. Only love makes a man both the best he will ever be, and the weakest. Sometimes all in the same moment.

The little chapel was filled with people, people from her childhood that were excited only because they had put money on Oliver Queen marrying Cora Mercer. There were some that she didn't even recognize, but they knew her. Of course they knew her. She was the talk of the town now. What happened to just quietly coming into town?

The doors to the chapel opened and the whole crowd's dull roar was brought down to a dull whisper as Richard Mercer stepped through the threshold.

Suddenly, Cora's life spiraled downward.

The pit of her stomach dropped, making her feel very light headed. She saw Oliver and Vincent get up from their seats and crossed the room to where she was, blocking Richard's path to her.

"You weren't invited." Oliver threatened dangerously low.

She saw it then. Oliver has something the rest of them don't have. She didn't know what it is, but she felt it all the time, especially when they were standing close. Beneath the expensive clothes, and cultured veneer, there's something that never crawled all the way out of the swamp. It didn't want to. It likes it there.

His hand was held in front of her, like a lion protecting it's cubs. Vincent was standing on the other side of her, glancing at her and her trembling hands.

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.

Cora took Oliver's hand and held it tightly in her own - it seemed to be the right thing to do, since she saw that look once before in his eyes, the one that said he wanted to murder the person that was in front of him.

"Get out." Oliver wanted to smack that smirk off her father's face. "Get out, before you leave on a stretcher."

"I'll be sure to remember that Oliver Queen threatened me when I take over your father's company."

"That wasn't a threat, Mercer." Oliver held a smirk of his own. "You can either walk out on your own, or be carried out. Your choice."

"And let me add to the threat my dear friend here gave you," Vincent spoke up for the first time. "You try and take Queen Consolidated and every form of government agencies will at your front door."

Cora was certain that there was a hint of knowing in her brother's eyes. What did he know? Did he knew that Richard killed their mother? Did he know about the abuse Cora suffered through? Did he know that Cora was the reason for their mother's death? If her mother hadn't stood up to Richard and his abuse of her daughter, she'd still be alive.

But even when she would stop crying, even when they would fall asleep and she would be nestled in his arms, this will leave another scar. No one will see it. No one will know. But it will be there. And eventually all of the scars will have scars, and that's all she'll be-one big scar of a love gone wrong.

He was there. Day and night he was there for her, risking his very existence to protect her from a war that claimed her life over and over again. He never faltered, never wavered, never feared for his own safety. He was beaten, stabbed, abused, and tortured again and again, yet he still stuck to her, ignoring the possibility that he would die for her one day. It wasn't right. She didn't deserve everything he sacrificed for her. She wasn't worth so high a price.

She knew he'd say differently.

"I merely came here to give my congratulations to my daughter."

"She's not your daughter. You lost that right a long time ago."

"And who are you to speak to me like that?"

"I'll speak to you however I see fit, Mercer. You aren't worth the dirt under my shoes." Oliver spat. "Now get out."

She caught her father's eye and her stomach twisted painfully. The gleam in his eye was one that she knew all too well. Her father wasn't done with her. She could be married to Oliver Queen and pregnant with his children and still her father wouldn't be done with her. She knew this too.

Richard Mercer turned on his heel and walked out without another word, with Diggle following behind him.

The next thing she knew, two faces were at her level. When had she sat down? She didn't remember sitting down. Oliver looked at her with his secret concern, because he knew her secret and Vincent looked at her with compassion, like he knew her father was a bastard, but didn't know the real reason why she was afraid of him.

"Are you okay?"

She stared at the two most important men in her life, unable to say anything.

* * *

**Author's Note: SORRY THIS IS LATE! I had a bit of a writer's block the past few days. | You just can't rush something this awesome. Richard Mercer is up to something. Can you guess what it is? I'll give you a few hints for the next few chapters. Someone will get hurt. Someone will learn a disturbing truth. And someone will get some well deserved revenge. As always leave a review and tell me your thoughts! (:**


	11. Decisions: Part I

"I'll be damned if I apologize for the choices I've made. They were hard decisions, but I had good reasons for making them." Cora shouted as stormed past Oliver and her brother. She roughly pulled on her jacket once the frigid air hit her exposed skin. It was as if she were in her own badly written, sick TV show, where the lead doesn't catch a break, ever. But she figured that's what happens when you play a game of thrones. You either win or you end up dead.

Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word. Her father had cut her the deepest. Maybe that was why she couldn't cry, she realized, staring dry-eyed at the open sky. Because what was the point in crying when there was no one there to comfort you? And what was worse, when you couldn't even comfort yourself?

Opening your eyes is all that is needing. The heart lies and the head plays tricks with us, but the eyes see true. Look with your eyes. Hear with your ears. Taste with your mouth. Smell with your nose. Feel with your skin. Then comes the thinking, afterward, and in that way knowing the truth.

The one thing she'd learned was that having someone with you all the time did not take away the loneliness. You could be surrounded by people and be lonely. Something was missing. She could almost pinpoint it, but right when it was within her grasp she forgot; it just slipped away. What was the point in trying anything other than turning her back to the harsh wind? It's one thing to be clever, but another to be wise. She'd rather be wise before she was clever. Maybe it was best to turn her back to the wind. Her once unmarred soft skin had turned to steel.

"Mercy."

She turned her head a fraction of an inch, already knowing who was standing behind her. Both men stood there, their hands in their pockets, staring at her as if they're just now seeing her in a very different light.

They probably were.

The saying; _the brightest flame casts the darkest shadow _couldn't have been more truer.

"There's no shame in fear, Mercy, what matters is how you choose to face it." Vincent stepped forward and drew his sister into his arms. "Now that I've learned the truth, your father has another person to go through before he'll land a hand on you again."

Her glance lifted toward Oliver, who's gaze told her everything she needed to know without being spoken to. Oliver had told Vincent about her father and his abuse. There was no doubt in her mind that Vincent knew what happened to their mother, too.

A woman's life is nine parts mess to one part magic, he'd learn that soon enough, and the parts that look like magic turn out to be the messiest of all.

_I want to cry_, she thought. _I want to be comforted. I'm so tired of being strong. I want to be foolish and frightened for once. Just for a small while, that's all...a day...an hour. I don't care, I'm just so tired of being strong._

Oliver just watched Cora in her brother's embrace. It seemed that this was one of those times where only the comfort of family could soothe the soul. But Richard Mercer, Oliver had thought he was stupid before, but showing up at his wedding? If a man paints a target on his chest, he should expect that sooner or later someone will lose an arrow on him. And Oliver was willing to lose that one arrow, if it meant getting rid of Richard Mercer for good.

Vincent had let go of his sister, his hands sliding down her forearms as he stepped back, giving her a slight smile and then leaving the two of them to the silence of the wind, excusing himself back into the party.

"Are you mad at me that I told him?"

"No." Cora whispered, hugging her jacket closer to her body. "You probably were able to say it in one coherent sentence."

Oliver crossed the distance between them in a few paces and took her face in his warm, rough hands. Slowly he looked at her, and then he bent down, planting his lips on hers. The kiss was unexpected - deep and forceful. Stunned she just stood there, like an idiot.

When he finally pulled away, Cora was left breathless - very literally. That kind of love should've been able to beat sickness. That kind of love should've conquered anything.

"No one will touch you, Mercy."

Cora had to scoff at that. "Have you ever seen The Hills Have Eyes? Texas Chainsaw Massacre? How about Psycho?"

Oliver's lips curved up into a smile. "I'm more dangerous than any of those things."

"Is that so?"

Oliver nodded silently, his smile turning into a grin.

"Five years on an island and that platinum spoon turned into a jagged knife. Huh." Cora rolled her eyes.

_You don't choose your life, your life chooses you._

"The words for what I want to say right now don't exist. Everything sounds…so _cliché_." Cora dragged the last word out, rolling it over her tongue in exasperation.

"Really?"

Cora nodded.

Oliver's eyes searched her own. "Thank you."

"For What?" Her mind went blank, the words she was trying to say flying out the window at a hundred miles an hour.

"For everything," He said.

Cora looked at him suspiciously for a second before speaking. "I have the feeling I just made a deal with the devil and he's going to come back and want our first-born child or something."

Oliver's eyebrows shot up. "You want kids? Because you know, practice makes -"

"Shut up, Oliver Queen. Don't finish that sentence." She shook her head and started walking back toward the door, his musical laughter following her from behind. The warm blast of air hit her and she shivered involuntarily.

She tried to escape from the party - to get away from the countless stares that she received from the people on Oliver's side of the fence. That's the funny thing about trying to escape. You never really can. Maybe temporarily, but not completely. She had found her purse after rummaging through all the coats that were piled in the little storage room and grinned, curling her fingers around the cool metal.

She disappeared a moment later, passing Vincent on the way out.

"I need fresh air, going for a drive!" She called out as she passed him and went to her Aston Martin, the sleek black car welcomed her body as she slid into the driver's side. She started the engine and threw it into drive, the car sliding out of the parking spot with ease and precision.

Some things are best left...unknown, you know? People search for answers and they don't always like what they get. Sometimes the truth is worse than the lie. Thoughts of her father's last glance at her back at the party. She was having one of those days where she wanted to start throwing things because only breaking crap would make her feel better. Her limit for acceptable weirdness in her daily life had been maxed out.

Even in the darkest and most cruel person, there is still a kernel of good. And within the most perfect champion, there is darkness. The question is, will one give in to the dark or the light? It's something we decide with every choice we make, every day that we exist. What might not be evil to you could be evil to someone else. Knowing this makes us powerful even without magic.

Even paradise could become a prison if one had enough time to take notice of the walls. She is always torn. Between control and chaos; passion and tranquility. Between what's fated and what she wanted. Part of her longed to take the plunge, to dive off headfirst and let the feeling of control evaporate on the wind. And part of her wants to be in a place where she'd never have to worry about that choice-or any choice. Where peace and calm are the only things she'd feel.

* * *

**Author's Note: WOAH! I had to stop myself here, otherwise you would have had to read a 5,000+ word chapter. xD So Vincent knows that Cora has been abused by her father, but do you think he knows about her father killing their mother? Leave your thoughts below! :)**


	12. Decisions: Part II

The idea that you might end up in a job that doesn't allow you to be who you are, over the course of a lifetime, is still one of the most chilling nightmares to her. It's a good metaphor for fears she has about losing her soul in some accidental, mundane way. She was a woman who is was scared, but also a vigilante on behalf of her own soul.

That is a good example of why efficient and trustworthy courts are so important. Without them, people are left to their own devices. Frequently, that means violent, vigilante devices. Order breaks down. We no longer have civilization, only individuals acting in their own interest, not the common interest. The whole thing becomes like this evil enchantment from a fairy tale, but you're made to believe the spell can never be broken.

She had remembered skidding on a patch of black ice - a dangerous, unseen force that could cause deadly consequences. She remembered applying the brakes, something her mother taught her when she was learning to drive, but the brakes didn't work. What the hell? She remembered the pole and she remembered the feeling of the air bag knocking her out.

What she didn't remember, was someone passing by and calling the police.

* * *

Vincent checked his cellphone. "Shit, I gotta go. There's a car accident not from here - they need all the help they can get." He clapped Oliver on the back and excused himself. He was looking at the chapel as it disappeared from his rearview mirror.

When he reached the accident, there was no mistaking the crumpled Aston Martin and the identifying license plates.

Vincent's heart clenched.

When he got to the scene, they were using the jaws of life to get the car open. She was passed out in the driver's seat. But what really caught his attention, was the steel rod that was going through her abdomen.

"Don't move her!" Vincent climbed into the crumbled passenger's seat and checked for a pulse underneath the gushing blood. "She's barely alive."

"Vin... that's Cora." A paramedic friend of his whispered.

"I know." He had to keep his head with him. He couldn't associate his medical training just because she was his sister. He needed a level head. "We need to cut this pole as close as we can get it to be able to move her. GET A FIREFIGHTER OVER HERE NOW!"

A half hour later, and Vincent was riding in the ambulance with a bloodied Cora. He had instructed the police to check every inch of that car, because something told him that this was not an accident. Especially not after Richard paid them a visit.

"Give me another liter of B positive and someone call Oliver Queen."

"Why Oliver Queen?"

"He's her husband."

He took the other bag of blood and hooked it up in place of the empty one. She was losing too much blood.

"Female. 24. 130 pounds. Unresponsive at the scene. Car crash, metal spike from a nearby fence lodged in her abdomen, lost a lot of blood. BP is 180 over 100. Pulse is slow, possibly going into shock. Pupils are barely responsive." Vincent had spoke so fast as they gently pulled the stretcher out of the ambulance and carefully wheeled her into the emergency room.

* * *

The call that Oliver took as soon as the party was dying down made his nerves freeze. It was Vincent, telling him that Cora was in a really bad accident and that it was the call he got when he had to leave. Oliver could hear from Vincent's voice that it was bad, Cora's brother on the verge of hysterics.

Oliver knew it had to be Richard, especially after Vincent told him that it couldn't have been an accident because Cora would have been able to overcome the fish tail the cops said the car did before hitting the pole and fence.

He didn't operate on the same frequency as everyone else. On one hand, he was more dangerous than anyone he'd ever met. He could slip into a room, kill you with a spatula, and be out of town before anyone knew about it. That's just what he was going to do.

* * *

Oliver Queen had Richard Mercer by the throat. Dangerous as a lightning strike, as lethal as a pair of crisscrossing short swords, Oliver whispered dangerously. "You're about to find out how your liver tastes, my friend."

He unleashed the monster, the _killer _in him and nearly beat the living shit out of Richard Mercer, stopping himself only by mere inches of taking the bastard's life. Death would be too kind for the bastard. Then if Cora... if Cora died, she'd be stuck dealing with him for eternity. Oliver wasn't going to let that happen.

Their time together felt like a storm, like a wild wind and rain, like something too big to handle but too powerful to escape. In the absence of real thunder, he's making his own. He was like a dangerous fire that burned everything in it's path. Lightning. Once it has forked, hot-white, from sky to earth, there is no going back. Sometimes it's faster and more efficient to destroy.

* * *

When Oliver reached the hospital after his visit with Richard Mercer, Vincent was waiting for him.

"How is she?"

"Still in surgery, it's not looking good." Vincent was barely holding it together.

His heart clenched for his fourteen-and-a-half-hour wife. He wondered if it's medically possible to be addicted to another human being.

"I've been doing this a long time, and I've come to learn that predictions don't mean much. Too much lies outside the realm of medical knowledge. A lot of what happens next comes down to you and your specific genetics, your attitude. No, there's nothing we can do to stop the inevitable, but that's not the point. The point is that you should try to make the most of the time you might have left with her when she gets out of surgery."

"If she gets out of a surgery." The words slipped from his lips without his permission. _It's like there's a filter set up in my brain, except instead of making things better, it twists everything around so what comes out of my mouth is totally wrong, totally different from what I was thinking. _He thought.

He guessed that's just part of loving people: You have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up. It was a really fucked way, but Oliver had to come to terms with the possibility that she might not make it. It's so strange how life works: You want something and you wait and wait and feel like it's taking forever to come. Then it happens and it's over and all you want to do is curl back up in that moment before things changed.

Love: a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge. That's what it is: an edge; a razor. It draws up through the center of your life, cutting everything in two. Before and after. The rest of the world falls away on either side.

It's amazing how words can do that, just shred your insides apart. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me - _such bullshit. _I'll tell you another secret, this one for your own good. You may think the past has something to tell you. You may think that you should listen, should strain to make out its whispers, should bend over backward, stoop down low to hear its voice breathed up from the ground, from the dead places. You may think there's something in it for you, something to understand or make sense of.

But I know the truth: I know from the nights of Coldness. I know the past will drag you backward and down, have you snatching at whispers of wind and the gibberish of trees rubbing together, trying to decipher some code, trying to piece together what was broken. It's hopeless. The past is nothing but a weight. It will build inside of you like a stone. Take it from me: If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it tugging at your back and running its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do—the only thing—_is run_.

Oliver's mind flashed back to the island, where he had no one and he fought his way to survival, killed a lot of things on the way. The only one that seemed to matter was that he had nearly killed Richard Mercer. What would Cora say to that? Would she not want to speak to him again?_ Assuming she lived_. His mind cursed him. You have to go forward: It's the only way. You have to go forward no matter what happens. This is the universal law.

* * *

When they finally - after twelve hours of surgery - brought Cora out of the OR and settled her in the ICU, Vincent had went to clean up, while Oliver went to sit with her. She was alive. Stable, but not nearly out of the woods. They doctors didn't know if she'd be able to walk again, the spike just barely nicking her spinal cord.

She was intubated, but she was awake, barely. Oliver had sat next to her and took her hand in his. Under thick, heavy lidded lashes, Cora really wanted to speak to him. Tell him she was sorry. Nothing has ever been so painful or delicious as being so close to him and being unable to do anything about it: like eating ice cream so fast on a hot day you get a splitting headache.

"Don't try and move or talk, Mercy." Oliver's voice was just above a whisper as he brushed a few strands of hair out of her face.

An itchy feeling began to work its way through her body, as though a thousand mosquitoes were circulating through her blood, biting her from the inside, making her want to scream, jump and squirm. Oliver must have noticed her heart rate speeding up by the monitor.

"Calm down." He laid his hand against her cheek. So soft, so sweet. "Breathe, Mercy."

She tried her best. Instead, with little strength she had - which was more than he thought she would have - she gripped his hand as tightly as she could. Times like this, when she slips her hand into his and holds on tight, and her father becomes just a shadow in the doorway and the world simply disappears.

And then a nurse came in and the world reassembled itself.

Cora had touched her arm with her other hand and pointed to the intubation tube.

"You want it out?"

Cora nodded slightly.

The nurse looked over at Oliver, who nodded, mouthing a few words.

"I'll be right back."

When she returned, she brought a white lab coat wearing doctor with her.

"I want you to take a deep breath, okay?"

Cora nodded.

And on the count of three, he pulled the tube, causing Cora to cough uncontrollably, her free arm going across her stomach, tears falling free from her eyes. Oliver's heart broke for her. He knew what it was like to be in pain. And there was nothing he could do to soothe her. All he could do was hold her hand and brush away the tears until she uncurled herself slowly from the fetal position that she curled into.

She open her mouth to apologize again, for being stupid and leaving. But he took her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers. And he's so close that she can feel his warm breath, and all she knew is that when he draws his next breath, she wanted to get sucked in. Their lips touched, almost as soft as not touching at all. Then they press closer to each other, draw back uncertainly, touch again. There is warmth shooting through her broken body where there should be pain, and she put her arms around the back of his neck and held on to him. She held on because you never know in this place when something good will be taken away.

She wanted to be healed and whole and perfect again, like a misshapen slab of iron that comes out of the fire glowing, glittering, razor-sharp. Life should be a risk. It's more than a straight line that you can see clearly from one point to the other. It dips and curves and you never know what's around the bend sometimes until you get there. That scares a lot of people. But that's the beauty of it.

"This has to be uncomfortable." Cora's voice was hoarse, but at least she could talk. The way she was holding onto Oliver had to be really uncomfortable for him. He at the edge of the seat, bent over the small bar on the side of the bed. He didn't seem to mind though.

"It is, but I don't mind. I care about you. More than I feel safe caring. You make my heart do some really weird things."

She needed him to know how she felt so she just kissed him as long as he would let her. She used to think talking was all about words. But you can say so much more with your eyes and your fingers and your touch. Words just make us one-dimensional.

"Get a private room if you plan on doing the dirty."

Oliver looked up to see Vincent standing there, with one eyebrow raised.

"The nurse told me you gave her a hard time and made her take the tube out." His face was serious, but then slowly but surely, a smirk formed on his lips as he leaned over her bed, his hands supporting his weight on the mattress and leaned forward to place a kiss on her forehead. "I'd kiss you, just for being alive, but then technically, I'd be kissing him." He inclined his head toward Oliver. "And I don't bat for that team."

Cora couldn't stop the laugh, both her arms wrapping themselves around her middle to stop the side splitting pain from tearing her apart. She can see his pain, see it in the way he runs his fingers through his hair, over and over, and she understood what it costs him to hide it all.

"I've gotta go, If I don't meet up with Tess, she's going to kill me." Vincent announced, then looked over at Oliver and mouthed; _Call me if anything changes with her_.

Oliver nodded. As he watched him walk out, he looked back over at Cora.

"Who's Tess?"

"His wife. She's the VP of Star Labs in Starling City." She tried to push herself up into a better sitting position, but it was proving difficult.

"Don't strain yourself."

She craved a presence beside her, solid. Fingertips light at the nape of her neck and a voice meeting hers in the dark. Someone who would wait with an umbrella to walk her home in the rain, and smile like sunshine when he saw her coming. Who would dance with her on her balcony, keep his promises and know her secrets, and make a tiny world wherever he was, with just her and his arms and his whisper and her trust. This was him.

"I couldn't stop - the brakes wouldn't work."

"I know."

Cora turned her head toward him.

"I had a feeling it was your father doing - especially after the look he gave you. Vince had the same idea."

"What'd you do to him?"

_Crap._

"I beat him within inches of his life and left him in the street." The truth slipped from him faster than anything he'd seen in his life.

Slowly, Cora's lips turned up into a slight smile.

* * *

**Author's Note: So this is possibly the longest chapter to date, but I was on a roll and each time I thought of stopping, it didn't make sense so I kept going. What do you think? Vincent figured it out about Richard's involvement with Cora's accident and Oliver nearly beat him to a pulp. Do you think someone found Richard Mercer before he died? And for those of you who asked if Cora was related to a Tess Mercer (aka, from Smallville), what'd you think of her (small) introduction as Vincent's _wife_? Leave your thoughts and comments below! :)**


	13. Darkness

The adrenaline from the night before had worn off her and now, Cora Mercer couldn't pick up the call button without it hurting. She was stuck in her hospital bed, alone. Oliver had gone home to take a shower and get some fresh clothes and Vincent was with Tess. The only company she had was cable.

Which wasn't much company at all.

Well she did have company, her mind was her company.

But even that was worse than cable.

Love is when you care more about something else than you do about yourself. Her mother had been that. She loved her daughter more than her own life. She'd never been impulsive. It's always been in her nature to consider things carefully and then decide upon the best solution. Except, sometimes the circumstances change. Sometimes things get so complicated and so bad that your nature just doesn't matter anymore. She knew how useless words could be. How even when you wanted more than anything just to hear someone say they understood, it didn't make you feel better. Not really.

There was nothing someone could say, that would take the pain away of losing her mother to the bastard that tortured her. Her father was demon. She knew that after the first time he abused her. How could a demon have a child that was nothing like him? Let me tell you a little bit about demons. They love pain and other people's misery. They lie when it suits them and don't see anything wrong with it. They corrupt and kill and destroy, all without conscience. They just don't have the capacity for something as honorable as loving another person.

It's not the wisest thing - love - but when it happens, there's not a lot you can do to stop it. Sometimes you just have to soldier on through. There are moments that you'll remember for the rest of your life and there are moments that you think you'll remember for the rest of your life, and it's not often they turn out to be the same moment. She'll never forget the anger that was in her father's eye when he killed her mother.

Her mother always said that she was born out of a bottle of vinegar instead of born from a womb and that she and father bathed her in sugar for three days to wash it off. She tries to behave, but she always go back to the vinegar. Happiness. It was the place where passion, with all its dazzle and drumbeat, met something softer: homecoming and safety and pure sunbeam comfort. It was all those things, intertwined with the heat and the thrill, and it was as bright within her as a swallowed star.

She wanted to be happy, but she knew she wouldn't be completely happy until Richard Mercer was dead and buried. She had been innocent once, a little girl playing with feathers on the floor of a devil's lair. She wasn't innocent now, but she didn't know what to do about it. This was her life: abuse and shame and secrets and teeth and a deep, nagging hollow at the center of herself where something was most certainly missing. Yearning for love made her feel like a cat that was always twining around ankles, meowing _Pet me, pet me, look at me, love me. _

It wasn't like in the story books. No witches lurked at crossroads disguised as crones, waiting to reward travelers who shared their bread. Genies didn't burst from lamps, and talking fish didn't bargain for their lives. In all the world, there was only one place humans could get wishes: Brimstone's shop. And there was only one currency he accepted. It wasn't gold, or riddles, or kindness, or any other fairy-tale nonsense, and no, it wasn't souls, either. It was weirder than any of that. It was teeth.

Once upon a time, there was a world that was perfectly made and full of birds and striped creatures and lovely things like honey lilies and star tenzing and weasels, and this world already had light and shadow, so it didn't need any rogue stars to come and save it, and it had no use for bleeding suns or weeping moons, either, and most important, it had never known war, which is a terrible and wasteful thing that no world needs. It had earth and water, air and fire, all four elements, but it was missing the last element. Love. And so this paradise was like a jewel box without a jewel. There it lay, day after day of rose-colored dawns and creature sounds and strange perfumes, and waited for lovers to find it and fill it with their happiness.

The end.

The story is unfinished.

The world is still waiting.

This, she thought, isn't just for today. It's for everything. For the heartache that still felt like a punch in the gut each time it struck, fresh as new, at unpredictable moments; for the smiling lies and the mental images she couldn't shake; for the shame of having been so naive. For the way loneliness is worse when you return to it after a reprieve—like the soul's version of putting on a wet bathing suit, clammy and miserable.

It was sadness, lostness, and the worst thing about it was the way it seemed like a default—like it was there all the time, and all her other expressions were just an array of masks she used to cover it up. It seemed she was in a cathedral—if, that is, the earth itself were to dream a cathedral into being over thousands of years of water weeping through stone. Was there another life she was meant to be living? At times she felt a keen certainty that there was-a phantom life, taunting her from just out of reach. A sense would come over her while she was drawing or walking, and once while she was dancing slow and close with Oliver, that she was supposed to be doing something else with her hands, with her legs, with her body.

Something else.

Being near Oliver was like balancing on a tipping world, trying to keep your footing as the ground wanted to roll you forward, hurl you into a spiral from which there was no recovery, only impact, and it was a longed-for impact, a sweet and beckoning collision. And yet, something tied them together, strong than any of that, something with the power to conduct her blood and breath like a symphony, so that anything she did to fight against it felt like discord, like disharmony with her self.

* * *

"I really shouldn't be saying anything..." Tess whispered.

She sat in a mini circle, staring at Oliver and Vincent. Her and her big mouth, letting it slip that she already knew about what happened to Cora.

"Yeah, but she confided in you. I'm her brother, Tess. What else is she hiding?" Vincent scolded her.

"You really don't want to know."

"No, I do."

"No, you _really _don't." Tess insisted, glaring at Vincent.

"Why not?" Oliver asked.

"Because."

"Because why?" Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"Because I said so, Oliver."

"Come on, Tess."

"No."

"Come on."

"He raped her!" Tess shouted, throwing her hands over her mouth, looking at the two men wide eyed, her words shaking everything inside them.

Both of them had paled.

"That... explains so much." Oliver was the first to come out of his stupor. "Our first kiss and she seemed like she didn't want me to touch her." He ran his hands through his dark hair. Now the whole world seemed to stop.

Vincent stood, putting his hands up. "I'm going to tear him apart."

"Shit, Vince!" Tess snapped. "It's murder!"

"Justifiable homicide." Oliver returned.

"When did my questionable moral code start to qualify as the guiding light in this family?!" Oliver tried to side step Tess, but she wedged herself more firmly between the two of them and the front door.

* * *

**Author's Note: DUN DUN DUN, as if Vincent and Oliver needed another reason to rip into Richard Mercer. It's revealed that Cora confided in Tess of all people. What are your thoughts? Think Richard Mercer should die at the hands of Oliver and Vincent? Leave your thoughts below! :) **


	14. Never Surrender

Oliver had snuck silently into her hospital room and had been quietly watching her sleep for a few hours now.

"Hey there, sleeping beauty…"

Over his shoulder, the sky had deepened to a dark denim blue.

"How long have you been here?" Cora mumbled.

Oliver was propped on the bed, using his arm to support his head. He placed his hand on hers and her chest fluttered in response. He smiled softly at her.

"Not long." His eyes searched mine. "I had a few things to take care. My mother wanted to know the whole details of your condition."

She rolled her eyes. "Aren't you tired?"

He shrugged, looking right into her eyes. "Right now, this is all I feel." He held their intertwined hands up for her to see and she wanted to look away, but she couldn't break the hold his gaze had on her, like he could see more than anyone else saw. Things she couldn't see herself. Even more than the cold, She was frozen by the sadness in his beautiful eyes, deep and true. He squeezed them closed a moment and breathed deeply through his nose. Then, with one swift movement, he cupped the back of her neck with a strong hand, pulled her head forward, and pressed his lips to hers. He wasted precious moments kissing her, his tongue gliding across her lips, darting at her teeth. Cora open her mouth and kiss back just as eagerly.

When he finally let go, Cora spoke.

"What was that for?"

"For being alive." Oliver leaned closer, staring into her eyes so intently she was sure he could see everything she was thinking, but too afraid to say. "You're the brightest thing I've ever seen, Mercy. You're this beautiful ball of fire spitting sparks out at the world, burning fiercely, holding back the dark by sheer will. After everything you've been through, you deserve happiness."

Cora's lips turned up into a smile. "But I do have happiness."

"How?"

Cora lifted her hand and rested it against his face. "Because of you."

Oliver gave her a look of bewilderment.

"Ever since I moved back to Starling City, you've always protected me. You have this vigilante side to you and you risked your life to give my father a few rules that he didn't go by. When we were kids, you and Vince were always there. My knights in shining armor. And I owe you two my life."

"You don't owe me anything."

"Why did you marry me?"

"Because... I love you, for one."

"And then, because if you and I were married, my father couldn't touch me."

_If you're betwixt and between, trust the one with red hair._

Oliver 's gaze ripped through her. "You always were too smart for your own good."

He knew himself well enough to know his own faults. Impatient and judgmental and stubborn and often too quick to act: he would try never to crush her, never to overwhelm her or bend her to his will, but if she did not demand only the best from him, it would happen. It might happen. Possibly.

She knew his secret: for all his wandering, his independence and his unorthodox ways, he took his responsibilities very seriously. He even borrowed others' responsibilities, making them his own simply because he thought this sort of service was owed to those whom he loved.

That explained a great many things he'd observed about Cora Mercer. No wonder she came near to throwing a blue fit every time he approached. He threatened to collapse the carefully respectability she'd worked nonstop for six years to build. On the other hand, he couldn't forget the way she'd responded to his kiss,, or the way she'd shivered at his light caresses. She liked being touched. She liked his touch. Oliver gave a slight smile. Perhaps the angel secretly wondered what it would be like to be in the devil's embrace. The devil certainly wondered.

Their time together was interrupted by Vincent as he threw open his sister's hospital room door and turned the TV on. What came on, was the news. The headline as big as the TV; _**RICHARD MERCER ARRESTED. **_Cora's mouth dropped open as she glanced between Oliver and Vincent.

"On what grounds?"

"On everything you can imagine - smuggling, embezzlement, battery, attempted murder. He's lucky he's arrested, apparently the Russians aren't too happy with him." Vincent replied. "A security guard at Star Labs told me when I walked into the building."

"I say throw him to the Russians. See how fast he can lose his limbs." Oliver muttered.

"I'd like to see that." Vincent grinned. He turned his attention to Cora, raising an eyebrow. "How are you feeling?"

"Still no feeling from the waist down, if that's what you're implying."

The corner of Vincent's eyes twitched.

Oliver had to look away from his brother-in-law. He knew that look. The look that he often saw in the mirror, a look of guilt. Like if he would have stopped her from leaving, she wouldn't be in the accident in the first place.

"I've got doughnuts!" Tess called out as she walked into the room, Vincent's face changed from guilt to fake happiness. Tess sat on the bed at Cora's feet and handed her one. "Sorry it took so long, I had to sneak it in." Her lips curved into a smile as Cora looked like she wanted to inhale the whole thing in one bite.

"She shouldn't be eating that."

"Oh stop being a paramedic for two minutes, Vince." Tess chastised, giving him a pointed glare.

Vincent rolled his eyes.

"I wonder if Laurel is going to be at the trial."

Cora looked at Oliver with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm just saying, if she's taking his case, there's a likely chance he'll be put away."

Cora was the next one to roll her eyes. Yeah, because Laurel Lance was the last person she wanted to see if she had to go to the trial. If her father lasted that long.

If.

_If was good._

* * *

**Author's Note: What'd you think? Richard Mercer was finally arrested for his crimes! Cora seems to be paralyzed from the waist down and Vincent seems to have some trouble dealing with the fact that he didn't protect his baby sister. What do you think is going to happen next? Leave your thoughts below! :)  
****Another little note, I have a few days to myself and I have about maybe five or six chapters planned out and all they need is to be written, so expect a few more updates! And I just wanted to thank all of you that have reviewed and left such kind messages. You guys are awesome! Keep them coming, because I read and enjoy each one! (:**


	15. Touched

**Three Months Later:**

Watch your thoughts; they become words. Watch your words; they become actions. Watch your actions; they become habit. Watch your habits; they become character. Watch your character; it becomes your destiny.

Cora's character was shaking with something she couldn't quite put her finger on as she was wheeled into the courtroom, Oliver behind the wheel, while Vincent and Tess took up the sides. Honestly, she felt like she had her own security team.

Not that she minded, mind you.

Half of the eyes that turned toward her direction were blocked by her brother and his wife.

And boy was she grateful for that.

Life would be a lot easier if conversations were rewindable and erasable, like videos. Or if you could instruct people to disregard what you just said, like in a courtroom. _Be your own place of safety_, she told herself, straightening in the wheelchair as she passed through the gate and was settled very much far away from where her father sat. No crossbar in the world could protect her from what lay ahead, and neither could a tiny knife tucked in her boot - though she wished she could have her tiny knife with her - and neither could a man, not even Oliver. She had to be her own strength, complete unto herself.

It had been a few months, actually it was 90 days, 15 hours and 45 minutes that she had to endure just to see her father handcuffed. She should have felt justified.

Instead she felt like a small child.

All because she hadn't been able to walk into the courtroom on her own. Cora glanced at Oliver, who sat next to her and under the table, he took her hand, resting their intertwined hands on his knee. The pair of them were again in the eye of a storm of misery - their world was a storm of misery and they were caught in its center, in the deceptive stillness that had allowed them to forget, once upon a time, that all around them was a stinging whirl of hatred that would catch them - it was everywhere and everything and they'd been fools to think they could leave their small safe place and not be caught in that vortex.

He gave her a little squeeze of his hand and she forced a small smile, trying not to glance at her father. She had caught a slight glimpse of him before they settled in the front of the court and saw him dressed in all white. Anyone who would wear all white like that clearly had issues. Just looking at him made her wish she had a paintball gun, but hell, you couldn't pack for every eventuality, especially when going to court.

Life isn't fair, so you have to play the best game you can with the cards you're dealt.

His lawyers, they were even more dramatic than her father. Was that even possible? They each wore ill-fitting black suits and well-fitting black scowls. What's next? Was the Angel of Death going to pop up at the back of the room through the tile and stalk to the front with one bony hand outstretched, while the staff he carried scraped the floor like nails on a chalkboard going "_Your time is uppppppppppp._"?

Suddenly, Cora wouldn't put it past the universe.

It seemed to hate her with a undying passion.

Life is full of luck, like getting dealt a good hand, or simply by being in the right place at the right time. Some people get luck handed to them, a second chance, a save. It can happen heroically, or by a simple coincidence , but there are those who don't get luck on a shiny platter, who end up in the wrong place at the wrong time, who don't get saved.

She hoped her father was the one that didn't get saved this time.

Then the judge came in and sat down.

"Alright, the city of Starling City versus Richard Mercer. Ms. Lance, you may proceed."

"Thank you, Honor." Laurel Lance looked toward Cora. "I'd like to call my first witness - Cora Mercer."

Cora was about to wheel herself up to the witness stand, but she caught her father's eye and instead, a fire burned bright in the pit of her stomach and she clamped the brakes down on the wheels, preventing the chair from moving. It had been three months.

What she was about to do, was surely going to shock everyone.

"What are you doing?" Oliver whispered beside her.

"I refuse to let my father see me as a weakling." She whispered harshly back.

Slowly, using the arm rests, Cora pushed herself up, the whole courtroom going eerily quiet. Her legs were stiff, but determination set in. Oliver and Vincent sat, there bodies poised, ready to catch her if she began to fall. But she didn't. Slowly, with a courtroom full of people that knew her and Oliver Queen, Cora Mercer slowly walked up to the witness stand, with a little help from Laurel, surprisingly.

"Raise your right hand."

She obeyed.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

Cora nodded silently and dropped her hand.

An hour went by, sitting on the witness stand before Cora was released from the stand. This time Oliver had walked up and taken her hand, wrapping his arm around her waist as he led her back to the table. When she managed to sit down, her composure went to hell and her hands began shaking violently.

She sat there, telling the judge all that had happened in six years. Three years before her mother died and three years after her mother died, including the two incidents where she was in the hospital at the hands of her father. The judge, who happened to be a woman, looked like a hawk at her father, narrowing her gaze at him every time she spoke.

She hoped that was because she was leaning in her favor and was just itching to put her father away for good.

* * *

**Author's Note: And so the plot thickens. Think Richard Mercer will be convicted? What'd you think about Cora getting up from her wheelchair? The unanswered questions to that will be revealed in the coming chapters. Leave your thoughts below and tell me what you think! :)**


	16. Passion

Every news headline was the same thing;

_**RICHARD MERCER CONVICTED, TO SPENT THE REST OF HIS LIFE BEHIND BARS. **_

The first thing that Cora saw when she woke. It had only taken the jury two days to decide what they were going to do, which sorta came as a shock to her, considering she figured she had the judge by her little finger.

"You shouldn't be watching that." A sultry voice whispered from beside her.

Cora glanced over at Oliver and smiled.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" He asked.

She glanced down at his arm draped over her, just under her breasts and shook her head. That seemed to satisfy him, because he closed his eyes once again. It was a Friday and he had cancelled all his plans, just to spend the day with her. He had questioned her, after court, how she managed to walk up to the witness stand all on her own and she revealed that she'd be doing overtime at rehab, with Tess encouraging her, but she forced Vincent's wife to not tell anyone.

While she was in the hospital, a week after the accident, she had gotten an itch in her foot and without any thinking, had picked her other foot up to scratch it with. It wasn't until the itch was satisfied that she realized what she had done. Excitement washed over her when she called the nurse and they had repeatedly told her that she wasn't dreaming.

You don't love someone because they're a dream of perfection. You love them because of the way they meet their challenges, how they struggle to overcome. You love them because together, you bring out the best in each other. And that's what Cora had on her mind the days where she struggled to keep going in rehab. She thought of Oliver and his blaze of faith in her, how he always kept the flame burning for her. Always positive about everything, even when she wasn't so positive herself about her future.

Her father was going to spent the rest of his nature life behind bars, serving three life sentences - two for nearly killing her and one for killing her mother all those years ago.

Life was looking up.

She wasn't too happy with the whole world knowing exactly what happened to her with her father, but it wasn't so bad, when she thought about it. Because her father tried to kill her, he inadvertently exposed all the other things he'd done. Several wealthy men were also convicted on crimes similar to his own.

"You're thinking about the trial, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not." She lied.

And Oliver called her out, too.

"You're a bad liar, Mercy." This time, his smile widened into a full-fledged, wicked grin that made him almost devilishly handsome. She looked away, not wanting her thoughts to inflate his ego. To distract herself, she concentrated on the scarred hand holding hers. His grip was light, as if she could pull away at any moment, but they both knew better.

He laughed, the sound rolling over her more than once with the echoes in the enclosed hallway. his laughter was so unique - part amused grow, part purr, and all self-assured male. Then his mouth lowered in a hard, claiming kiss. A groan parted her lips and his tongue snaked between them to stroke her with sensual dominance. He tasted like sin made into wine: dark, heady, and impossible to resist.

He went to her head like a shot of whiskey but tasted a whole lot better. He sent the same fire curling into the pit of her belly with none of the bitter acid on her tongue. Instead, he was smooth and rich and sweet like fine chocolate, and for once in her life, Cora didn't worry about the treat going straight to her thighs. She rather hoped he would. Everything about him enveloped her, made her crave exactly this. His possession. In her mind something relaxed; the balance shifted. She welcomed every way he could touch her, the heat from his body, the atoms of his breath. Everything.

He settled over her, not touching, not quite, careful to mind her still bandaged abdomen. The electricity between them snapped and pulled. A wild feeling pulsed through her. Cora lifted her hands, sinking them into his hair, pulling him closer. She swept her lips over his, and his body trembled. His fiery eyes drifted shut as her thumb moved on his bottom lip. Her hands were on the move, slipping over the thick cords in his neck and back, around his chest and down. Lower, over the hard planes of his stomach. He sucked in a sharp breath and Cora's lips turned up in a smirk.

_She was breathtaking in her beauty and her spirit_, he thought, unable to speak as he gazed down at her. Hers was the sort that would not fade or grow jaded with time and years, but flourish, grow more radiant with life and its experience. Hers was a beauty that no other possessed. A beauty he longed to keep, to hide away, to bask in, himself alone. She had become his. He didn't know when, whether it had been the moment her fingertips had touched him when he was hurt, or if it had grown, like a seed, slowing spreading until Cora had become the root anchoring the shattered pieces of his heart, pulling them tight together until it resembled the organ it should.

He kissed her again, this time pressing his hard, hot body into hers. He didn't press hard, but it was enough to get a groan out of Cora. Not because he hurt her, but because she really wanted to feel his naked body against her, every inch of it. Her chest tightened as she breathed in his musky scent mixed with cologne. She didn't recognize the brand, but it spoke to something inside her. It whispered _come closer_, and her heart pounded harder in her chest.

A friend. A companion. A beautiful, passionate lover to spend the days and nights with. A woman to carry his children, a partner to share the triumphs and failures. A woman he could share his dreams with, and who will share hers with him. A woman who he can comfort and hold in times of need, and who will hold him when he is weak , and sorrowful, and in need of the sort of succor only a wife can give her husband. A woman who he so desperately wanted to make love to.

"You are torturing me." Cora whispered as his head leaned down to settle in the crook of her neck. His breath tickled her neck, made her shiver all over. His fingertips traced the column of her throat down over the swells of her breasts where they lingered until her breath caught.

Five years on an island, with no women in sight and he still knew how to make a woman squirm beneath him.

"I'd say I'm sorry -" Oliver murmured, lifting his head so that the grin that was plastered on his face was in her eyesight. Then, he lowered his head and kissed the apex of her breast where her heart hammered so hard. "- but I'm not."

Cora rolled her eyes and gave him a pointed look. "I see that island didn't change you one bit."

His gaze found hers, fire burning in his eyes. She knew what he wanted. She knew very much what he _needed_, and the only thing stopping him from taking it from her, was a thick layer of gauze and the thought of hurting her. Cora lifted herself up onto her elbows,

Fire burned in the pit of her stomach as Cora pushed him back against the bed, swinging her leg over his torso and resting on top of him. The surprise was evident in his features, as his hands barely touched her thighs. Her red hair draped over them, covering them from the world as she grazed her lips against his. He responded hungrily. Her hands moved down his waist and hooking her fingers in the hem of his pajama pants, Cora released him from the constricting clothing.

She had peeled off her bra, watching his face contort into pure ecstasy. Next to go was her underwear, which was more awkward than it was sexy, but Oliver didn't seem to mind. And it was true, he didn't mind. He had waited this long, what was a little bit longer? He knew of her secrets that she needed to come to terms with before she'd sleep with him. And he didn't mind waiting until she was ready.

But now that she was ready, Oliver couldn't help but want her body on his.

She met his gaze and held it as she lifted herself and slowly sunk down upon him, impaling herself on him. He watched her bite her lower lip, squeezing her eyes shut. He could see the pain etched in her face. Taking her face in his hands, he brought her face down to his and kissed her softly.

"We don't -"

Cora silenced him with her finger. "Don't. Don't finish that sentence. You've waited long enough, Ollie."

He brushed his fingers through her hair and a smile graced his lips. "Oh Mercy."

She began to move her hips, slowly at first and his hands slid down her sides to rest on her hips, guiding her.

* * *

**Author's Note: I thought it would be nice if I wrote a chapter that was a happy one, so here you go! Richard Mercer is going to spent his life behind bars, what do you think of that? Think he'll escape? What about Cora and Oliver, do you think this 'happy moment' will last? :) A big thanks to everyone that reads and reviews this story, you guys are what is keeping this story going (and I love Cora and Oliver too much to let them go just yet, but that's not the point xD) and I love that you guys love this story! Leave your thoughts below!**


	17. The Good Life

Oliver was sprawled on his back, one arm stretched across the space beside him and the other rested across his bare stomach. Sheets were twisted around his narrow hips. His face was almost angelic in sleep, chiseled lines softened and lips relaxed. Thick lashes fanned the top of his cheeks. He looked so much younger at rest. His kind of masculine beauty was otherworldly and intimidating. Something that existed in between the pages of the books she used to get caught up reading. Sometimes she had a bit of a hard time convincing herself that he was real.

Cora couldn't disturb him, their daytime sex romp had left them both exhausted physically, but it had left her mentally exhausted, too. They slept the day away and the denim blue sky that seeped through the curtains was the only indication that it was night.

Instead Cora slipped silently out of the room, a gasp leaving her lips when she turned and nearly bumped right into Diggle. He gave her a once over, dressed it one of Oliver's shirts that barely went passed her ass and gave her a smirk.

"I see you had fun."

"Say another word, Diggle and you'll lose your teeth, and I would hate to call you Gummy." She pointed a slender finger at him before turning on her heel and headed toward the kitchen.

When she reached the kitchen, she gave Moira a small smile.

"I see someone had come out of hiding."

Cora's cheeks turned red as she opened her mouth to speak, but Ms. Queen stopped her.

"You don't have to explain." She stood from the table with her coffee in her hand and walked toward her, resting her free hand on Cora's forearm. "You're my son's wife, you don't need to explain to anyone. But you do not need to explain to me, because you make my son happy and as long as you do that, I'm happy for you two."

"Thanks, Moira."

Moira smiled at her.

"Have you eaten?"

"I was just about to get a small piece of fruit."

"Dinner should be ready pretty soon."

Cora took an apple off the counter. "Really, need any help?"

"Of course."

She slid the cutting board full of un cut veggies to an open part of the counter toward Cora. Cora took a bite of her apple before cutting the vegetables. Oliver chose to walk through the kitchen then, a grin plastered on his goofy face as he went up behind Cora and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"You left."

"I did not." Cora argued, smiling as she turned her head to the side to look at him. "You were sleeping, I didn't want to wake you. You were so peaceful looking."

He made a sound deep in his throat, pulled her closer and covered her mouth with his, a claiming kiss that made her skin tingle. She set the knife down and twisted in his grasp so that she was facing him. His stubble rasped her skin. He tasted nice, minty, unexpected, as he tilted his head and slipped his tongue between her lips. She curled her fingers in the thick hair at the back of his neck, holding him to her as his tongue explored, as she lifted hers to meet his and return the intimate caress.

_Right on the edge of fear was where trust could grow._

When he finally let her go, Oliver looked up into the eyes of his mother.

"What?"

"Oh nothing." Moira smiled. "Just haven't seen you this happy, that's all."

Cora's face flushed and she buried her attention in cutting the vegetables with precision. Oliver saw this and smirked, brushing his lips against her neck, whispering. "I guess you weren't so quiet after all, Mercy."

She drew her elbow forward and back, making contact with his ribs. He groaned quietly, his hand rubbing his side.

Love was full of secrets. Love masked so many evils. Love controlled people, it liked to them, it made them believe things that weren't true and it hid the truth from them. People said love was blind, but what they meant was that love blinded them. It made them more vulnerable than anything else could.

_And it felt so fucking good_.

It may have taken six years, and a whole lot of wrong turns along the way, but their story felt complete at last.

Because, finally, she was his.

He had to feel those lips on him again. Had. To. This wasn't a mild expression of preference. This was an imperative. His body was insistent. To continue his existence on this earth, he now needed the following: food, water, shelter, clothing, and Cora Mercer's lips. Their eyes met, and that spark of something hot and sharp ripped through her again. Awareness. It took a moment to realize, but that was it. She was utterly aware of him. Of the breadth of his shoulders, the deep even way he breathed, the force of his gaze. Bloody hell, but she we beset by the craving to touch him, testing the strength in those shoulders.

He was gazing down at her, and his eyes were endless, deep pools of pleading and fire and barely restrained something or other, and they were magnetic, like black holes, but full of flames, and yet gray, and yet full of colors and see-through and dancing with little flecks of glitter, and she couldn't look away. He had her trapped. There was something so primal and hungry about the way he stared down at her, the way their bodies unconsciously strained toward one another as if nothing - not even time, not distance, not even death - could ever keep them apart.

Oliver couldn't stand it any longer. He crossed the distance between them and claimed her mouth. His demanding tongue tasted so damn good, and his piercing bit deliciously against her lip from the aggressive way he pursued her over and over. His hands tugged and massaged at her hair and neck. He just surrounded her. The difference in their height made Oliver lean down over her. The way he forced her head back commanded her to open up to him. With the metal handle of the knife drawer pressing into her lower back, she felt completely enveloped in him, in his ardor, his scent. The world dropped away. There was just Oliver.

* * *

**Author's Note: Another happy chapter! Big surprises coming to Starling City! Oliver has to ask himself the question of giving up 'The Hood', to live a normal, happy life with Cora. Do you think he could truly give it up? Only time will tell, keep checking back for more chapters! And keep those reviews coming! I love them! :)**


	18. The Return

**One Month Later:**

Oliver was patrolling the streets, the city of Starling City was awful quiet and had been for a while now. It had been only a month since Richard Mercer had been put away and already Oliver had nearly forgotten his duties of being the vigilante. Things had finally been looking up for them, could one blame him for nearly forgetting? He was putting his own life above saving people. He was doing something for himself, for a change. It was the way it was supposed to be.

Until he spotted something that made his blood run cold on the rooftop directly across from where he was crouched on. The shape was identifiable, but it was the hood and arrows on his back that really made him stand out.

The Dark Archer.

He'd not seen him for nearly six months, thought that game was over with.

Who was he kidding?

There wasn't much distance between them and the respective buildings they were perched on. Oliver could hear him breathing, that's how close they were.

"I hope you don't expect fairness from me, Archer. It isn't one of my specialties."

_So I've heard._

"I hope you don't expect to win this time." Oliver shot back.

A menacing laugh followed.

"Yes, because it worked _so _well the last time we met."

The Dark Archer readied his bow and Oliver was quick to do the same.

"I do believe I'm better at this." His menacing smirk glinted in the moonlight.

_You wish_, Oliver thought as he let go of the arrow. It gave enough distraction to take cover. The last time he didn't take cover, he was put in the hospital. He _would not_ make the same mistake again. His factory setting had been flipped; _Survival Mode_. He wasn't about to lose this time. His ego and pride couldn't take it. Not against someone that was an enemy.

Never.

For a moment, he almost felt sorry for the Dark Archer, the man was just trying to gain attention. He was obviously in the same league as Richard Mercer; fucking delusional. Then the bastard hit him with one of his arrows, scraping his upper arm and Oliver got over it.

He aimed another arrow and fired, nailing the idiot shoulder. A small smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. His arrow had embedded itself into the shoulder the Dark Archer used as his firing arm. Maybe that would slow him down?

His question was answered when another arrow came toward him and he had to duck behind an air conditioning shaft on the rooftop. Someone was going to lose their heat.

Oops.

Oliver loaded two arrows at the same time, the Dark Archer in his cross hairs, and fired, hoping he'd hit the target in the chest. Something to make him drop like a fly. Unfortunately, the Dark Archer had done nearly the same thing - using three arrows - and two of them hit him in the upper right shoulder. Fortunately for Oliver, both of his arrows lodged right in his chest. He'd bleed out soon enough if he didn't get it treated, which meant he had a chance to find out who he was.

* * *

Cora had stormed into the bathroom where Oliver had went into.

"What the hell happened?"

"I had a run in with an old friend."

Cora took the gauze from him and pressed it firmly against his chest. Oliver hissed in reply. "At least you hit them, right?"

Oliver nodded.

"Good." She kept working on his two wounds.

"You're shaking." Oliver pointed out, looking down at her trembling hands.

"I'm not used to people trying to kill you." Cora replied softly.

"Really? I hardly notice anymore."

Despite her frown, Cora's jaw twitched and he knew she was on the verge of smiling.

"Come on, smile. You know it was funny, Mercy."

She refused to let the smile take over her lips as she pressed her lips in a firm, fine line.

"Come on, Mercy. I don't like seeing you frown."

That made her jaw twitch even more. but she had excellent restraint, because she focused more of her attention on cleaning his wounds, never saying a word.

"Do they hurt?" She dabbed a little peroxide on the first arrow wound.

"No."

She pressed the gauze firmly until he hissed in pain.

"I thought you said they didn't hurt?"

"I lied."

She soaked the gauze in alcohol and put it to his temple, where there was a little nick. Oliver glared at her through his thick lashes and Cora merely smiled sweetly at him.

_Oh she's good._

"Serves you right, you know. Leaving without telling me and then going and get yourself hurt."

"Like I had a say in whether or not I wanted two arrows in my shoulder."

"This is why the West was won _with guns_." She countered.

When a man finds a woman who is capable of accepting him for himself, he'd be a fool to let her get away. When a man discovers a woman who believes in him and who is strong enough to understand and forgive his past, he's finally able to stop wrestling with his conscience and his self–doubt. He welcomes that woman into his life and his heart, and he thanks the gods that they found each other in time to make a life together. And when a man loves a woman who's that unique, he damn well marries her. That's just what Oliver did. What is possible that in one paragraph, he summed up Cora Mercer-Queen?

Cora rolled her eyes at his scrunched up face as she continued her medical attention. Women were supposed to be the enigmas, but men? Moody, brooding bastards, the lot of them. A woman with PMS had nothing on a man. Where women might get hormonal once a month, men suffered their own brand of PMS on a daily basis. Oliver Queen was no exception to this.

Some lessons you learned by the book. Others you learned from cold hard experience. The latter may not be the best way to learn, but it damn well stuck. It might have even been a better way to learn, from experience.

"Are you okay?" Oliver used his free hand to tilt her chin up so that he could look at her in the light.

"I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine." He could see storms raging in those gray eyes of hers.

"I am."

Despite her notion that she was fine, Oliver saw a single tear fall from her eye. He reached up with his free hand and ran his thumb over the tear, taking it away as he let his hand fall. "A woman who's survived all you've survived doesn't cry. She holds her head up and dares the world around her to fuck with her. I'm fine, Mercy. I'm alive and talking to you. Now will you please tell me what's wrong?"

Cora shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "They.. the judge decided to overrule the life sentences...I heard it on the news earlier this evening."

"Oh Mercy."

Cora looked up at Oliver. "Instead, he's getting the death penalty."

That was a complete different answer he was expecting. His heart broke for her.

"He's still my father, Oliver. No matter all the shit he's done, he's still my father and as much as I hate him for the things he's done to me and the people I love, I would rather see him rot in a prison than be given the death penalty. He's getting the easy road."

He wrapped one arm around her waist, and cupped her nape with his other hand. This time when he kissed her there was none of the restraint she'd seen in the past. It was like kissing an inferno. Hot, breathless, so overwhelming that her senses shattered at his touch, all her worries melted away.

Pain always seemed to make her more beautiful.

"I swear, I'll use any resource I can to get the judge to reinstate the life sentences."

Oliver stood, crowded right up into her space, pressed his body against hers—trapping her against the glass of the door behind her, plunged his hands into her hair until he was cupping the nape of her neck, and devoured her lips with his. He didn't care how much it hurt him to embrace her, all he wanted was her pain to be gone. He didn't want her mind to stay too long on the topic of her father.

Her happiness was what was important to him.

* * *

**Author's Note: Uh oh. Richard Mercer's gonna get the death penalty. You would think Cora would be happy that she'd be rid of her father for good. THE DARK ARCHER IS BAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK. Think Oliver will find out that it's Tommy Merlyn's father? Leave your thoughts below! :) **


	19. Break Away

"Мне нужна ваша помощь."

"С чем, я мог бы спросить?"

"Мне нужно, чтобы избавиться от проблемы."

"Какая проблема может быть?"

"Ричард Mercer. Он был пожизненно за решетку, теперь он становится смертной казни."

"И почему это плохо?"

"Потому что, это не кажется справедливым, что он получает так легко с смертная казнь."

"Что вы хотите от меня?"

"Мне нужно поговорить с судьей, правительство России хотели бы получить в свои руки его, и я знаю, что он проведет остаток своей жизни за решеткой, если он отправлен в Россию."

"Я посмотрю, что я могу сделать."

"Thank you." Oliver hung up the phone.

When he went looking for Cora, he found her in the kitchen, staring out of the window, more than likely lost deep in her own thoughts. Her thoughts are what Oliver worried most about her. It wasn't that she couldn't handle herself. He knew she could. But her mind was a whole different territory. It was something that could be dangerous on it's own. He knew. His own mind was just as dangerous alone as it was when he had his wits about him. He walked hesitantly toward her and then wrapped his arms around her from behind in a gentle hug. Kissing the side of her temple, Oliver brought her as close to him as he could.

"You look like you needed one."

"I did." Cora smiled softly at him, her hands resting on his forearms.

He was so fucked, careening madly down the path to getting his heart splattered all over hell. And grinning like a buffoon the entire time. Contentment and happiness didn't exist in their lives for more than a few moments at a time, and they were really only illusionary. There was always something hidden. Lying in wait to spring up and ruin everything. That seemed to be their luck.

* * *

She walked with a grace about her, her heels clicking softly on the aluminum floor, visitor's badge held tightly in her hand. She held her head up as she passed the guard, flashing the badge at him. He let her into the room and when she stepped through, Richard Mercer was waiting for her, sitting there in his orange jumpsuit, handcuffed to the chair.

"Cora." He flashed her a wicked grin.

She refused to sit down, instead opting to stand in front of him, the table being the only thing between them.

"Richard."

"Have you heard the news?" Richard taunted. "I'm being released from prison, something about evidence being compromised."

Cora snorted under her breath. "Is that what you requested me for? To tell me you're being released?" _Play his game, Cora. Then ... play your own. _She thought. _Turn the tables._

"I thought you'd be happy - we get to continue our little game."

Cora rested her hands on the table, leaning forward. She watched her father's eyes drift down, toward her open blouse. Cora resisted the urge to smirk at him. _Like a mouse in a trap. _"It bothers you, doesn't it? Sitting in a cell while I have the time of my life with a man that has much more stamina than you. Must bother you to the core."

She watched her father's eyes darken and she smirked. _Welcome to my revolution. _"You do. I can see it in your eyes. You hate him for taking me away from you." She brought one leg up and sat down on the table. _Keep your wits Cora. _She thought. Richard leaned forward, as far as he could with the cuffs on.

With a red painted nail, Cora ran her nail down his cheek. "You thought you'd watch me fade away..." The finger traced down until it got to his Adam's apple. "You thought you broke me..." She saw a glimpse of recognition in his eyes and smirked wickedly as her fingers wrapped themselves around his throat. "What you thought was your best decision, just became your biggest mistake. You should have stayed to make sure I was dead the first time." Her nails dug into his neck. Her gray eyes narrowed. "If you, by some miracle get out of the three by nine cell you've been calling home, and you come after me or Oliver, you're going to face an army of me and trust me -" She was so close to his face that she could smell his breath. "- I'm not the same innocent little girl you took advantage of six years ago." She squeezed tightly for a few seconds before letting go, hopping off the table and smiled sweetly. "Have fun. I'm sure you're going to make someone _very _happy in here."

She left him there, cuffed to the chair, stunned. The justification settling in as she walked out of the prison, a smile on her face. When she reached the gate, she thanked the guards and slid on a pair of aviators, blocking her eyes from the sun. The black Ferrari was waiting for her. She got into the passenger side and looked over at the driver.

"I feel better."

Tess looked at Cora and smiled. "That's what I like to hear."

"Thank you. If I had asked Oliver or Vincent, they would have tied me down and sat on me until my whim passed."

"Us wives have to stick together," Tess started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. "Especially with husbands like Vincent and Oliver."

Cora snickered, nodding her head in agreement.

* * *

"You did _what_?!"

"I went to go see my father in prison."

"Why?"

"Because, Oliver. I had a score to settle." Cora turned around to face him, her gaze hardening. "That man tortured me for six years. _Six years_, Oliver. You were gone for five of them, so I don't expect you to understand."

"Oh, I understand Mercy. Believe I do." Oliver crossed the distance and took her hands in his. "But you went alone. You didn't tell me."

"You didn't tell me you were going vigilante hunting a few nights ago."

He had to give it to her, she was sharp tongued. He couldn't help but nodded. "True."

"So what's the difference?"

"I don't like that you went alone."

Cora ripped her hands from Oliver's grip. "I'm not a child! I've been taking care of myself for six years! I'm not crippled and I can handle myself. I might be selfish sometimes and a little bit insecure, but I can twist a knife in someone just as much as the next person. I don't need a babysitter, Oliver. I was doing fine on my own."

"Okay, I'm sorry." He rubbed her arms. "You're so afraid of being hurt that you attack first. Only those who really care about you will weather the assault of your verbal attacks and stay. The rest will fall away. If you want to throw insults at me and cuss and scream at me, than do so. I'd much rather you take it out on me, than keep it bottled up and explode all at once like you just did." He drew her in his arms and she let out the breath she'd been holding.

For the first time in his life, he truly understood love. It wasn't just an intangible emotion, it was when his own happiness was found by making her happy. It wasn't something found in a grandiose gesture. I was found in the simplest form.

A single smile that made a cold-blooded assassin weak in the knees.

* * *

**Author's Note: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! What did you think of the surprises? As always, leave your thoughts below! :) I love reading them.**

**Translation to the Russian conversation; **

"Мне нужна ваша помощь.**" (I need your help.)  
**"С чем, я мог бы спросить?"** (With what, might I ask?)  
**"Мне нужно, чтобы избавиться от проблемы."** (I need to get rid of a problem.)  
**"Какая проблема может быть?"** (What problem might that be?)  
**"Ричард Mercer. Он был пожизненно за решетку, теперь он становится смертной казни."** (Richard Mercer. He was serving life behind bars, now he's getting the death penalty.)  
**"И почему это плохо?"** (And why is this a bad thing?)  
**"Потому что, это не кажется справедливым, что он получает так легко с смертная казнь."** (Because, it doesn't seem fair that he gets off so easily with the death penalty.)  
**"Что вы хотите от меня?"** (What do you want me to do?)  
**"Мне нужно поговорить с судьей, правительство России хотели бы получить в свои руки его, и я знаю, что он проведет остаток своей жизни за решеткой, если он отправлен в Россию."** (I need you to talk to the judge, the Russian government would love to get their hands on him and I know he'll spend the rest of his life behind bars if he's sent to Russia.)  
**"Я посмотрю, что я могу сделать."** (I'll see what I can do.)**


	20. The Gift: Part I

A faint smile that made every tiny hair on her body rise in quivering attention. "How fast can you run?" A hunter's question. She suddenly found herself backed into a corner. There was a party going on just outside.

Her legs moved on their own accord, running at full speed, with Oliver chasing behind her. She ran past Tommy and Thea, sitting on a few chairs that were set up. The crisp, warm air of Summer hitting her in the face.

"You'll never catch me, Queen!"

She did a runner's jump and back flipped over a chair, landing on her feet and kept running. She passed Moira, who was grinning like a mad woman at the two of them. Somehow, she got distracted and Oliver caught up with her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and spun her around. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. "What were you saying about me not being able to catch you, Mrs. Queen?"

"You cheated."

"I did not."

"Okay, you two, come and have a drink and celebrate!"

Oliver and Cora looked at Moira. "For what?"

"For the successful merging of Queen Consolidated and Star Labs!" Vincent announced as he walked through the back door, hand linked with Tess. He held his glass up to Oliver.

"Are you serious?"

"I just signed off on it."

Oliver took a wine glass from his mother and grinned. "That's great."

"Here you go, Cora." Moira held a glass of wine out to Moira.

"Oh, no thank you, Moira."

Seven sets of eyes turned on her.

"I'm still taking pain meds from the accident." She said.

It seemed like Tess was the only one that didn't quite believe her lie as Cora watched her sister - in - law raise a thin eyebrow.

Oliver had looked over at Cora with admiration. _I love you_, he thought, looking at Cora._ I love every part of you, every thought and word...the entire complex, fascinating bundle of all the things you are. I want you with ten different kinds of need at once. I love all the seasons of you, the way you are now, the thought of how much more beautiful you'll be in the decades to come. I love you for being the answer to every question my heart could ask. _And it seemed so easy, once he capitulated. It seemed natural and right. Oliver wasn't certain if he was surrendering to Cora or to his own passion for her. Only that there was no more holding back. He would take her with everything piece of past she had. And he would give her everything he had, every part of his soul, even the broken pieces.

No matter the price.

Once everyone dismissed her reason for not drinking, Cora had taken up a lounge chair, staring at the pool, the water barely moving. It soothed her somehow. Until Oliver sat down next to her on her chair. His hand torched her skin where it laid on her leg.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just enjoying the weather."

Oliver smiled at her, his smile was brighter than the sun.

"What about you?" Cora asked, raising an eyebrow. "You okay?"

Oliver nodded. "I'm fine."

He loved her beyond earth, heaven, or hell. Every moment out of her company was agony; every moment with her was the only peace he had ever known. Every touch of her hands left an imprint that ate down to his soul. He would have killed himself before admitting it to anyone. The truth was buried deep in his heart.

It was finally becoming clear to her that love wasn't about finding someone perfect to marry. Love was about seeing through to the truth of a person, and accepting all their shades of light and dark. Love was an ability. And no matter how fucked up her past was, it was nice to know that she was still capable of the ability to love.

"I love you, Oliver." She whispered, her hand reaching up to touch his cheek. "I know that things have been... impatiently slow and boring at times, but I love you for staying when you could have gotten another woman in your bed."

"There's no need to apologize, Mercy." Oliver's hand rested on hers. "If anyone knows what you're going through, it'd be me. I was a walking shell of the person I used to be before you came back. You are not a perfect woman. You have an evil temper, I know, because I've been at the receiving end of it _many, many _times. You're as blind as a mole sometimes when it comes to thinking people don't care about you, and frankly, your French accent could use some work."

Cora smiled at him and then Oliver took her face in his hands. "But when I put those things together with the rest of you, it makes you into the most perfectly imperfect woman I've ever known. Now stop apologizing."

She nodded silently, giving him a gentle smile. A sweet, natural, brilliant smile, the first she had ever given him. Oliver felt his chest tighten, and he went hot all over, as if some euphoric drug had gone straight to his nervous system.

It felt like … _happiness_.

**"**What do you see for your future?**"**

**"**I married you, didn't I? I must've seen a future if I married you.**"**

She hit him in the arm gently.

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"I see this - you and I - just taking it one day at a time." Oliver raised an eyebrow at her. "Why?"

"No reason." She shook her head.

"I'm not buying it, Mercy." Oliver narrowed his eyes at her. "What's brewing in that head of your's?"

"Nothing."

"Mercy." Oliver challenged her, his tone stern.

"I'm scared."

"Of what?" He took her hands in his.

"Of what you'll think."

"Mercy, I've seen your scars, there's nothing that can make me run for the hills now."

Cora bit her bottom lip.

* * *

**Author's Note: Another happy chapter! :) Can anyone guess the secret Cora's keeping from everyone? First person to figure it out, I'll give them a cookie. ;) Leave your thoughts below!**


	21. The Gift: Part II

"You remember all those times we... uh... _you know_." Cora twisted the wedding ring around her finger.

Oliver was dumb for a second, but then he caught on.

"Mercy.. are you..." He dropped his voice down to a whisper so that their guests wouldn't overhear them. "Are you _pregnant_?"

Cora looked at him with fear in her eyes. It pained him, made his chest tighten. It wasn't until Oliver had taken her face in his hands and kissed her passionately that she seemed to relax a little.

"I was so worried that you wouldn't want to know me once you found out." She sighed, relief flooding through her.

Oliver took her chin in his hand gently and made her look at him. "Hey, Mercy, look at me. You don't have to be embarrassed about this, this is wonderful news."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean look, you and I, we have been through so much lately. You with your father and me with my vigilante stuff. I mean, don't you think it's about time that just a little bit of good news came our way?"

Cora sighed in relief again.

"Have you told anyone else?"

Cora shook her head. "I think Tess might suspect."

Hell, she probably _knew _already, before Cora did.

"How.. uh.. how far?"

"A little over a month." Cora glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow.

Oliver did the mental calculation, really despising the math to a very hateful degree. His eyes widened slightly. If he was right... then _that _meant...

"You mean it happened -"

"The night you ran into the Dark Archer." Cora dropped her voice to a whisper.

"_Oh_." Oliver grinned. "_That night._"

Cora's face flushed a deep red.

Oliver chuckled softly and wrapped his arm around her as Cora leaned her head down on his shoulder. "It explains that late night drugstore visit a few night ago, which you wouldn't let me come in with you."

"It's embarrassing."

"How?"

"Because, all my life, my mother drilled it into my head that if I was going to be sleeping with someone, that it was a necessity that protection was used. And all those times we did it, there were no thoughts about protection at all."

She was right about that.

But deep down, Oliver's inner voice was bouncing off the walls, clapping his hands like a wild man, giddy and excited beyond measure.

"Mercy, don't be embarrassed - you're married. It's the natural thing, isn't it? Get married... have children. And in a couple of months, the Queen mansion will be finished and we can move into it."

Queen mansion? Cora lifted her head. "What mansion?"

"It was going to be a surprise." Oliver shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Our home, it'll be finished later next month. It gives me the chance to have a private room for all my Green Arrow gear."

"You're still going to be Green Arrow, after what I've just told you?"

"I -"

"Oliver, you can't!" Cora's eyes watered.

_Oh god, the hormones are already starting, _Oliver thought with a groan. "What do you want me to do? Give it up?"

He would, just for her. He'd more than likely would _hate_ it, but he would do it. If it made her happy and made her feel safe, then that's what he'd do.

Before she could answer him, their attention was adverted when Vincent came up to them.

"You guys are missing out on the fun stories."

"I have a thirst for lemonade." Cora replied, tapping Oliver on his knee before standing. "I'll be back in a few."

Raising an eyebrow, Vincent waited until Cora was out of ear and eye shot before taking a seat across from Oliver.

"Something wrong?"

"Nope."

"Tess seems to think something's up and I'm only here asking because knowing her, she'd badger it out of one of you."

"It's not my business to say anything, when Mercy is ready, she'll tell you. I'm sure she'll want to be the one to tell you and I'd just be spoiling her fun by saying it first."

* * *

Night had fallen, the night sky a deep, dark, denim blue with a few stars here and there, scattered among the darkness. Oliver was watching Cora sleep soundly in their bed. He couldn't sleep himself, the nightmares of the Dark Archer and his time on the island plaguing his mind, making it very difficult to catch a good night's sleep. Oliver didn't mind though, not if it meant he got to watch Cora sleep. The day had been filled with excitement, having a new secret to keep that wasn't one of his own. It was exhilarating.

His hand rest lightly on her stomach, his fingertips making light circle designs on her flesh as he watched a slight smile take over Cora's lips as she dreamt.

"Ollie," Cora whispered, eyes peering out from under heavy lids, "What are you thinking?"

He smiled, kissed her naval before glancing up at her. "Barbaric thoughts."

"You're very pleased-" Cora's mouth opened wide with a big yawn. Clearly she was still half asleep. "-with yourself, aren't you?"

Oliver laughed softly and rest his head in his hand, supporting his head. "I am. It's very exciting, knowing I did this."

"And I have nothing to do with it?" She was more awake now, just by the coherent sentence that she formed.

"Mercy," He whispered, kissing her abdomen softly again. "Let me have my moment of male glory. Go back to sleep."

She seemed to obey him, her breathing evening out, her chest rising and falling. When she didn't make a snarky reply to his comment, he knew she was out like a light. Perhaps this situation was a good thing. All those times having to stay up with her, because of the nightmares she so desperately feared, ones of her father returning and this time killing her were finally paying off. Now, she had no choice but sleep, because her body demanded it. He only hoped that with him beside her and their child growing inside of her that she'd have pleasant dreams and sleep through the night without any problems.

* * *

**Author's Note: What do you guys think of this new surprise? Leave your thoughts below and tell me what you think! :)**


	22. Suspicious Behavior

The next morning, Oliver was up before anyone else. He stood in the kitchen, glass of water in hand as he gazed outside at the rising sun, dressed in a suit, ready for the day to begin. The revelation that Cora was pregnant and it wasn't some crazy dream that he had, was sinking in. Slowly, he was beginning to relax. Since he'd returned home last year, he was distant - cold, even. No one knew what happened to him on the island. No one knew what torture he had been through. No one would understand what the island had done to him.

Except Cora.

Her situation might not have been the same, she certainly wasn't stranded on a desert island for five years, beaten and tortured everyday, but she'd been through her own share of being stuck somewhere that she desperately wanted to get away from. And quickly.

This was the gift of recovery, he thought. The ability to be here in this moment with the female he loved and be fully aware, fully awake, fully present. _Undiluted_.

A pair of arms wound themselves around his torso.

_He knew those arms._

Oliver turned in her grasp and smiled down at Cora.

"Good morning."

"Good morning to you, too." She smiled, taking the glass from his hand and setting it on the countertop. She turned her body back and drew him in for a kiss. Without breaking the kiss, Oliver had slid his hands behind her thighs and lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he set her on the counter. He pinned her with both hands on either side of her body.

"What do you have to do today?"

"Business meeting at the club. Into the final touches." Oliver replied.

"Right, right," Cora nodded. "So you can keep your alter ego safe and sound. You know, you could have just made the excuse that you were with me instead of building a club."

"I was on an island for five years - no women, at all - and I don't think they expected me to date anyone, let alone marry them. Besides," Oliver leaned down at kissed her forehead softly. "You would get sick of me after awhile."

"Not possible." Cora replied.

Oliver winked at her and that made Cora giggle.

He hadn't heard her giggle before.

_It was actually kind of cute._

"It'll more than likely be a whole day thing, so I'll have my cell on me."

"Oliver Queen has a cell phone?" Cora teased. "Wow, the world has frozen over."

Oliver pinned her face with his hands, smirking. "You know which cell phone I'm talking about, too."

When Cora nodded, he gave her a soft, delicate kiss on the lips and was about to walk off when Cora stopped him.

"Don't get into too much trouble, okay?"

Oliver nodded and gave her another quick kiss, leaving her sitting on the counter. Cora watched from the window. She watched Oliver get into a car and Diggle was right behind him. At least he was in good hands.

See, this was the thing with Oliver. He could be out there and he could let his edge get away from him, but he always came back and made you feel like you were the single most important person in the world to him and that he was truly sorry for hurting your feelings. It was one of the things that she enjoyed most about him.

She headed out of the kitchen and was passing the hallway when she heard Moira talking in the office to someone.

"Do you want to me arrange another kidnapping?"

"I've told you before, my son does not know anything."

"Or maybe he does and he just isn't telling you."

"I doubt that."

"What about that new wife of his?"

_That perked her interest._

"I doubt she knows anything."

Cora rolled her eyes. _I know more than you do and you're his mother._

Taking a deep breath, Cora took a few steps back and then forward again, this time at a normal pace before she stopped at the door and knocked. "Moira, I don't feel all that well, so I'll be in Oliver's room."

She could hear Moira change her tone. "Okay, sweetheart. Hope you feel better soon."

Cora rolled her eyes again.

There was pain, but there was also joy. It was in the tension between the two that life happened. Imperfect as it was, this world was real. Illusion was no substitute. She'd rather live a hard life of fact than a sweet life of lies.

Cora ran to her room and shut the door behind her, grabbing her cellphone and dialing the number for Oliver.

He picked up on the third ring.

"Cora? What's wrong?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the club, why?"

Cora grabbed her keys and snuck out the back door. "I have to tell you something. I'm on my way."

She got into the Volvo that was a rental car and sped away from the mansion.

"Why can't you tell me over the phone?"

"Because, I just can't."

It took nearly an hour, but she arrived at the club and found Oliver talking to a few other people. She walked up to him, excused herself and pulled him aside.

"Some guy was over, talking to your mother." Cora took a deep breath. "Ollie, she's the reason you were stuck on that island, they wanted information from you."

"What?"

Oliver clenched his eyes shut, and a sinking feeling settled over Cora. It was agonizing seeing him suffer. To see him in pain.

"Oliver, I know I shouldn't have been overhearing it and I wasn't, I was just walking -"

He stopped her by drawing her into his arms. "It's okay."

"How are you not upset by this?"

"I never said I wasn't. But I'll deal with it later, for now, I should get you home."

They were about to leave when Max, a local club owner walked in.

"What are you doing here?"

"Came here to tell you to back out of your club deal."

"Not gonna happen."

Cora stepped forward, her heels clicking on the concrete. "You will leave now," She said softly. "Or I will drag you out of here by your hair."

The man had breath like a bourbon soaked sponge. "I hate you women. You always think you're tougher than you really-"

Cora grabbed the man's wrist, turned him in a little circle, and cranked him arm up to the middle of his back. Then she clipped her leg around his ankles and shoved him off balance. He landed like a side of beef, the wind getting knocked out of him on a curse, his body plowing into the concrete. In a quick move, she bent down, buried one hand in his gelled-up hair, and locked the other on the collar of his suit jacket. As she dragged him face-first to the exit, she was multitasking : creating a scene, committing both an assault and a battery, and running the risk of a brawl. But you had to put on a show every once in a while. To keep the peace, you had to get your hands dirty every once in a while.

When she came back, Oliver was staring at her with amusement in his eyes.

* * *

**Author's Note: SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE, a bit of a writer's block has plagued me. Dx Cora can still kick ass though! What do you think Moira is up to? Leave your thoughts below and hopefully expect a super long next chapter because things are heating up in Starling City! :D**


	23. All Night Long

"Thanks for staying with me last night," Cora said, her hand on his forearm. "You didn't have to sleep on the bathroom floor, though."

"Last night was one of the best nights of my life."

Cora turned to see his expression. When she saw that he was serious, she raised an eyebrow and shot him a dubious look. "Sleeping in between the toilet and the tub on a cold, hard tile floor with a vomiting idiot was one of your best nights? That's sad, Ollie."

"No, sitting up with you when you're sick, and you falling asleep in my lap was one of my best nights. It wasn't comfortable, I didn't sleep worth a shit, but I like I said, Mercy, I'm going to worship you. I'm going to take care of your every need, too. Even if that means I'm staying up til eight in the morning with you, holding your hair back."

Cora shook her head and stood, leaning over the sink to brush her teeth. She spread the toothpaste on her toothbrush and scrubbed every inch of her mouth, determined to get the taste out of her mouth.

_Don't give up on something like that. It doesn't come along very often. And when you find it, you hold on tight. _Cora's inner mind screamed at her. _You lock that shit down with an iron fist and you never, ever let go. Even when life tries to take it from you, you smack life upside its head like a little bitch and you keep on fighting for it._ She never knew her inner mind was so right.

Oliver had gotten up and was standing behind her, his reflection staring back at hers as she brushed her teeth. He brushed her hair to the side, flipping all of it over one shoulder and leaned down to place a soft butterfly barely-touched-the-skin kind of kiss on her bare shoulder. The neckline of her T-shirt was cut, so it hung loosely off her shoulder. It was her favorite shirt.

Heart always wins out over the mind. The heart, although reckless and suicidal and a masochist all on its own, always gets its way. Live in the moment, where everything is just right, take your time and limit your bad memories and you'll get wherever it is you're going a lot faster and with less bumps in the way. Sometimes opposites attract, and find out they're not as opposite as they thought. Who would have thought that six years ago, she'd be married to Oliver Queen and be pregnant with his child. The idea that they had this secret between them, keeping her pregnancy from their family and friends, just made their love even that more stronger. It was the idea of keeping something to themselves for a change that made her life a whole lot better.

"Can I ask you something?" Oliver's gaze lifted to look at hers through the mirror.

She took a drink of water, swished it around in her mouth and then split it out, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and nodding. "Shoot."

"Is that why you went to see your father?"

Cora stood still for a moment, before her head slowly nodded. "I had a feeling, but I wasn't sure. I felt.. different after I decided I was going to go see him after he sent me a card from prison and asked if I'd stop by. It gave me a little bit of power when I saw him cuffed to the chair."

Oliver had kissed her shoulder again, his hands rested loosely on her hips.

Who knew that the path to a womans heart was through the soul of an honest man? Oliver Queen was more than she had ever dared wish for, and he was better than a dream or a fantasy because he was real. He was far from perfect, moody and distant at times, and burdened with sharp temper and an impulsiveness that was part of his dark nature. But she felt more love for him than she thought possible. He wasn't perfect, but he was perfect for her.

It was so nice just to live in the moment, to enjoy holding him so closely, to pretend for a little while that they were merely two young people in love and nothing else.

But that was not the case.

That was not the case at all.

When she was finished washing her face, Cora led Oliver back to their bed. Oliver had sat down, pulling her onto his lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "What about your mother?"

"I'll see what I can dig up. If she did have anything to do with me being stuck on that island, it wouldn't surprise me."

"Why not?"

Oliver concentrated his gaze on his wife's midsection, his fingertips grazing her stomach lightly. "Her and I weren't always so ... friendly toward each other. My parents were too caught up in getting money and reputation."

"Sounds like my father. My mother wasn't bad, she tried to keep me occupied, but ultimately work came first for the most part."

Bottom line? As much as you wanted someone to change and believed they could, they were in control of their life. Not you. And you could throw yourself against the wall of their choices until you were black-and-blue and dizzy as hell, but unless they decided to take a different road, the outcome wasn't going to be what you wanted.

"I have to get ready." Oliver said.

Cora slid off his lap and watched him get dressed, ready to start another working on his club that would hide his secret lair. Was it possible to physically feel the moment you lost your heart to someone? Because Cora was fairly sure she'd just lost hers, and the spot where it should have been literally hurt, but in that pleasant way of hurting.

He stripped off his shirt and she saw his scars staring at her in the morning light.

It figured that the one man that treated her like a woman was the one that made her wish she was a man so that she could kick his ass. Sometimes Oliver Queen could be such a pain in the ass.

A pain in the ass that she loved with too much of her heart.

* * *

**Author's Note: Yeaaaaaaaaaah, I know it's been a few days since I've updated.. I'm sorry. | I've been in such a writing funk lately but I'm hoping that will change quickly! For now, here's the chapter, a little happy one before disaster strikes in Star City. :)**


	24. Don't Leave Me

**Darkness**.

That's all Oliver saw.

When he opened his eyes, he was tied up by his hands, dangling a few inches off the ground. He could feel blood dripping down his chest. When did all this happen?

"Look who's awake." The masked man slapped Oliver's face a few times. He pressed the jagged blade to Oliver's chest and slowly pulled down. Oliver's jaw clenched. The pain was just as bad as it was back on the island. He knew he drew blood in his lip from biting down on it so hard that it broke the skin.

Life was short, no matter how many days you were granted. And people were precious, each and every one, no matter how many you were lucky enough to have in your life. And love... love was worth dying for.

Worth living for, too.

It seemed like hours that the torture went on for, one blow right after another. Each one striking a sensitive scar that was physically healed, breaking it open again.

* * *

"Where is he Moira?!" Cora hollered as she stood in the foyer of the Queen Mansion with Thea, Tess and Vincent.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Do not lie to me, Moira. Oliver hasn't picked up his phone since he left this morning." Cora pointed a finger in Moira's face. "So help me, Moira, if you've done anything to him, I swear to god I will hang you up by your hair!"

Vincent had to hold Cora back from backhanding Moira. Her palms itched to have a close encounter of the bitch-slap kind with her face. After all this time, the one that was responsible for torturing Oliver was right in front of her and she didn't even see it.

"You have no idea what you're talking about, you put your own father behind bars!"

"Some people wouldn't see a traitor when they looked at me. Some people would see a survivor. Call me anything you like - I sleep just fine at night." Cora ripped herself from Vincent's grasp and stood in Moira's face. "But you will look at me when you say it. Or I'll get so far in your face you'll be seeing me with your eyes closed. You'll be seeing me in your nightmares. I'll scorch myself on the backs of your eyelids. Get off my back and stay off it. I'm not the woman I used to be. Your son isn't the man he used to be, either. If you want a war with me, you'll get one. Just try me." Her eyes narrowed at Moira. "Give me an excuse to go play in that dark place inside my head."

The past doesn't change no matter how much time you spend thinking about it. Good and b

ad all add up to the whole. Take away one piece, no matter how small, and the whole changes. Whether it's optimism, pessimism or fatalism, She didn't spend her time wishing for the past to be different so present would be different, too. She controlled her future with what she chose now. And she chose to find Oliver and bring him back - no matter the cost.

Cora turned on her heel and walked out, with Vincent, Tess and Thea following her. She managed to fill the three in while she was still in her right mind. Now, she was in that dark place that she often played in.

And she was out for blood.

Diggle had run up to her and she turned to face him with a dark look.

"If Oliver has his phone on, I can trace it."

"Do it."

A few pressed buttons later and Diggle had a decent location for where Oliver was.

"You're not going in there." Vincent stopped her from getting in the car.

"Like hell I'm not."

"Why? So Oliver can bury you?"

"Because I choose to."

"Because you have no regard for your own safety!"

"Because I'm pregnant!" Cora looked at the four separate faces staring at her. Then she added sheepishly. "..and hormonal."

After a few moments of silence, Cora spoke again. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I intend to go kick ass first and take names later. "

She got into the driver's side of the car and started the engine. Vincent and Diggle got into the car next while Tess had given Vince a kiss and said she'd be staying behind with Thea, see what she can dig up on Moira's plan.

The next thing they all knew, smoke was pouring out of the tires as she peeled away from the mansion, rubber burning in her wake. There was nothing that was going to stop her from getting to Oliver.

* * *

They parked about a block away from the spot that had said held Oliver. A old abandoned industrial building that seemed like it had seen much better days.

"Open the truck, there should be something to help us."

Diggle and Vincent did just as Cora said and popped the trunk.

Diggle searched through the weapons. "A scythe? Really?"

He held the wicked half-moon blade up and looked at Cora. "What are you, the Grim Reaper?"

"Yes, Diggle. I'm the Grim Reaper with red hair. You caught me. I drive around in my car full of weapons collecting souls." She took a few knives out from the underlining of the trunk and tucked them in various places while Diggle and Vincent looked at her.

"And you never stopped the abuse from your father?"

"There's a difference between physical abuse and mental abuse - that man had me so tight around the neck with mental abuse that I couldn't have gotten out of it even if I wanted to."

She shut the trunk after taking a cross bow out and began to move across the street, Diggle and Vincent right behind her. When she snuck into the building, she could hear voices. As she continued to walk, they got closer and closer, until...

Until she had one of them right in front of her.

She snuck up on him and wrapped her arm around his throat. "One move and you're dead, tell your buddies to drop the weapons. NOW."

The masked man that she had around the neck twisted and the next thing she knew, her back was up against the wall. She knew he was going for a second try - this time with a jagged blade. At the last minute, she bobbed left so that he stabbed the wall she'd hit, trapping the blade in the Sheetrock of the building. As he went to try to get the thing free, she whirled around and nailed him in the gut with her own blade, springing a hole in his kidney. Meeting his shocked stare, she grabbed his head and twisted as hard as she could, snapping the guys neck like a twig.

Sometimes the only way to know how far you'd come was to return to where you once had been. For them , life was a coin that had disaster on one side and waiting for disaster on the other. There was no life or death. There was just _I-don't-know-if-I'm-going-to-make-it-out-alive _kind of a thing.

Amazing what you could do when you catch a glimpse of a loved one hurt. She let the body drop to the floor and went over to the unconscious Oliver that was laid out on the concrete. His shoulder was badly bruised, it had to be dislocated. Cuts and scraps were everywhere on his body and he had a puncture wound in his side. The most urgent injury was the steadily bleeding wound on his side.

Vincent and Diggle had taken down the other two masked men and then went over to Cora, they bent down by her to check on Oliver.

"His shoulder is definitely dislocated and -" Vincent pressed down slightly on his stomach. "- his stomach is rigid, he's got internal bleeding."

"Call an ambulance."

"On it." Diggle stood and walked a few feet, dialing 911 on his phone.

"Oliver if you can hear me, hang on."

He barely heard a word she said.

When you were young, you thought time was a burden, something to be discharged as fast as possible so you could be grown-up. But it was such a bait-n-switch – when you were an adult, you came to realize that minutes and hours were the single most precious thing you had. And she prayed to whoever it was that would listen, to not let Oliver die. Because there was no telling what she'd do if he did.

The most dangerous people of all, are the ones that no longer have something to lose.

* * *

**Author's Note: Here's the revised/re-written Chapter 24. Sorry it took so long - I've had a writer's block and had some problems that needed my attention more. | I hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm hoping I can get out of this writer's funk and have some more chapters up for you guys! As always, leave your thoughts below! :)**


	25. The Web of Darkness

It had been the most agonizing fifteen hours in Cora's entire life. Vincent had drove in the ambulance with Oliver while Cora drove with Diggle. When she got to the emergency room, he was already in surgery and Cora had been waiting ever since.

Diggle had walked up where she was sitting, holding out a cup of coffee to her.

"I would have gotten tea, but they didn't have any."

Cora took the cup in her shaking hands. "That's okay. One cup of coffee isn't going to kill me."

"Maybe you should go home and get-"

"No." Cora shook her head. "I'm staying right here. If I go back there, I'll rip Moira Queen to several little pieces."

Diggle made a noise in the back of his throat, that sounded like a laugh. "That I don't doubt." He said, sitting down next to her.

It's dangerous to need someone that much. She's trying to save him and he's hoping she can. They were a disaster.

"When we met again, a few years back, something inside both of us had changed, and whatever that was, it made us need each other. For reasons unknown to me, I was his exception, and as much as I had tried to fight my feelings, he was mine."

You never realized how thick your fog was until it lifted. The past doesn't change no matter how much time you spend thinking about it. Good and bad all add up to the whole. Take away one piece, no matter how small, and the whole changes. But just as she was aware of all that aligned them, she was even clearer on how they were damned to be ever apart. It seemed Fate had an a vendetta against them and always kept them apart. Anything was better than nothing. Half-full was better than empty. Ignorance was the lowest form of humiliation and suffering. A feeling of violation swayed inside her, making her feel as if she'd been shoved off a high platform without warning. She was falling, and she feared the sensation far more than hitting bottom. There was no end; just a constant sense of gravity having its way with her. There's a disconnect between her mind and her heart, but she feels the truth. They say when people lose their vision, their hearing comes sharper. She's lost part of her memory but maybe her intuition is stronger.

"His were the kind of eyes that held secrets. The kind that lied without flinching. The kind that once you looked into them, it was hard to break away." Cora spoke, to no one but herself really, even if Diggle was sitting right next to her. She couldn't escape him, now or ever. He'd always be there, consuming her every thought, her heart locked in his hands. She was drawn to him by forces she couldn't control, let alone escape. Right now, she had everything she could ask for. It wasn't a long list, but it was a very satisfying one, starting with the love of her life back in her arms. She was truly handicapped when it came to emotions, and falling in love hadn't changed that.

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.

Oliver was her rock. Her savior. He couldn't leave her now. Her heart wouldn't be able to take it.

"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.'," Cora shook her head in disagreement. "I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone."

"Oliver will make it through this. He's tough."

Cora nodded in spite of the dreadful feeling deep in the pit of her stomach.

Growing up is all about getting hurt. And then getting over it. You hurt. You recover. You move on. Odds are pretty good you're just going to get hurt again. But each time, you learn something. Each time, you come out of it a little stronger, and at some point you realize that there are more flavors of pain than coffee. There's the little empty pain of leaving something behind - graduating, taking the next step forward, walking out of something familiar and safe into the unknown. There's the big, whirling pain of life upending all of your plans and expectations. There's the sharp little pains of failure, and the more obscure aches of successes that didn't give you what you thought they would. There are the vicious, stabbing pains of hopes being torn up. The sweet little pains of finding others, giving them your love, and taking joy in their life they grow and learn. There's the steady pain of empathy that you shrug off so you can stand beside a wounded friend and help them bear their burdens.

And if you're very, very lucky, there are a very few blazing hot little pains you feel when you realized that you are standing in a moment of utter perfection, an instant of triumph, or happiness, or mirth which at the same time cannot possibly last - and yet will remain with you for life. Everyone is down on pain, because they forget something important about it: Pain is for the living. Only the dead don't feel it. Pain is a part of life. Sometimes it's a big part, and sometimes it isn't, but either way, it's a part of the big puzzle, the deep music, the great game. Pain does two things: It teaches you, tells you that you're alive. Then it passes away and leaves you changed. It leaves you wiser, sometimes. Sometimes it leaves you stronger. Either way, pain leaves its mark, and everything important that will ever happen to you in life is going to involve it in one degree or another.

But this pain, this gut-wrenching-numbing-to-the-bone pain that she was feeling... she wouldn't wish it on anyone. Her mind was playing games on her. She had to keep her wits about her. Oliver couldn't die. He wouldn't.

"Time heals, Cora."

"No, it doesn't. At best, time is the great leveler, sweeping us all into coffins. We find ways to distract ourselves from the pain. Time is neither scalpel nor bandage. It is indifferent. Scar tissue is not a good thing. It is merely the wound's other face."

Perhaps the greatest faculty our minds possess is the ability to cope with pain. Classic thinking teaches us of the four doors of the mind, which everyone moves through according to their need.

First is the door of sleep. Sleep offers us a retreat from the world and all its pain. Sleep marks passing time, giving us distance from the things that have hurt us. When a person is wounded they will often fall unconscious. Similarly, someone who hears traumatic news will often swoon or faint. This is the mind's way of protecting itself from pain by stepping through the first door.

Second is the door of forgetting. Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep to heal quickly. In addition, many memories are simply painful, and there is no healing to be done. The saying 'time heals all wounds' is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door.

Third is the door of madness. There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind.

Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.

And no matter what anybody says about grief and about time healing all wounds, the truth is, there are certain sorrows that never fade away until the heart stops beating and the last breath is taken

Cora's mind was racing with a million different thoughts, she couldn't keep up. And then, suddenly, her hand went to her mouth to stifle the yawn that was tearing through her throat. Cora leaned her head against the wall, pulling her legs up on the most uncomfortable chair on the planet and closed her eyes.

"You're not really going to sleep here, are you?"

"Too late to leave - I'm tired. Can't ... drive." That was the last thing out of her mouth as sleep took over.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know, it's been so long since I've written a chapter. I'm sorry, forgive me? I've had such a writer's block lately. I've not wanted to do anything. Hope you enjoy the chapter, though!**


	26. Epilogue: Five Years Later

**Five Years Later.**

The laughter of a squealing toddler running through the massive yard could be heard around the world as Cora chased after her five year old in the June heat. At the last second, she caught the toddler, laughing as the little one tried to wiggle out of her grasp.

"I thought the doctor told you to take it easy?" Oliver's voice could be heard right next to her.

Cora turned and grinned at the sight of Oliver and their newborn daughter in his massive arms. She lifted the toddler up onto her hip and shrugged. "I could use the exercise."

Together, the four of them walked back toward the patio. Oliver had sat down with their daughter and Cora could help the smile that touched her lips. She watched as he settled down on the chair with her skin to skin on his chest. His hand all but covered her tiny body as he stroked her in that changeling way, bonding with her on the most elemental level. Then he purred, and she made a happy little sound of delight, very much a cat in her love of touch. Cora nearly busted at the seams with happiness.

After everything, life had finally settled down for them.

To her surprise, Cora saw more and more tears through Oliver's eyes. Their daughter stretched against him, yawning widely and throwing her arms up wide alongside her head. He laughed through his tears and reached for her little fist and brought it to his mouth, kissing her with such love that Cora couldn't believe it. The man suffered so much and yet, here he was, living the life of a happy man. Payback had been good to him.

For a change.

Although she was ashamed to admit it now, the darkness in him had been the largest part of his allure. It was such an anomaly, a contrast to what she'd known from life. It had made him dangerous. Exciting. Sexy. But that was a fantasy. This was real.

He suffered. And there was nothing sexy or thrilling about that.

But that's what made him imperfectly perfect in her eyes.

This was who she loved, she thought. And always would. It was the thrust of that stubborn jaw, and the dark, slashing eyebrows. It was that thick, glossy dirty blonde hair and the golden skin and that heavily muscled body. It was the way he laughed and the fact that he never, ever hardly cried. It was the scars on his inside no one knew about and the conviction that he would always be the first to run into a burning building or a bloody fight or a car wreck. It was all the things Oliver had been and was ever going to be that she loved so much.

Cora smiled happily as their five year old son walked over to his father and baby sister, gently touching his sister's head.

"Will she ever get big?"

Cora and Oliver laughed.

"Of course she will." Cora nodded.

"And then when she's old enough, you'll have to play the big brother and protect her from boys that have cooties."

"Oliver!" Cora smacked his arm lightly.

He took Cora's hand and looked down at their joined hands. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. There was no words. Nothing was said, except a silent thank you that only Cora could hear. His eyes lifted, meeting hers. They were warm. They were sweet. They were sincere.

Cora stood, asking if anyone was thirsty before disappearing into the kitchen through the patio door. As she got the lemonade out of the fridge, she noticed a letter on the counter top. Picking it up, Cora began to read it silently:

_Mercy, _

_So, here goes my attempt at this. Nothing I write here will ever come close to what I want to say to you. No amount of love letters, no words, no musings, nothing compares to what I actually feel for you. In all honesty, there isn't a me without you. I'm not me without you. When it all comes down to it, it's that simple. I crave you, Mercy. Your kisses, the touch of your fingertips against me, the way you tug me closer to you when we're laying next to each other. There have been times where I haven't had you, because yes, our relationship has had its fair share of ups and downs. Right now, we're at a high. You've sent me higher than I've ever been before. Better than drugs, right? (I know you're laughing at this lame joke) _

_What I came to realize, though, is that it's impossible to try and go on after that long with someone. Talking to you, while we weren't together, resulted in me literally fighting the urge to be in your arms again. Because we both know that's where I belong. That's where I've belonged since the day we met. Fact of the matter is, you still don't see it. In your opinion, you continuously mess up. You've told me that before. That you regretted everything. Little known fact for you? I don't. I don't regret you, Mercy. I don't regret the things that we've been through and I sure as hell don't regret ever meeting you. We've had our ups and downs but we're stronger together, than we are apart. Every break up, every time we fight for each other, every moment together, every moment apart, has brought us to this. This, right here, right now? Is something I could never trade. Not for anything or everything in the world. So, final promise for you. That this is it. No more fighting for each other. Right now, is where we'll stay. I'm yours, you're mine. And I swear to you, that won't change. _

_I love you. _

_Always have. _

_Always will. _

_Forever._

_Happy five years of craziness,_

_-Oliver._

By the time Cora finished reading the letter, tears were welling up in her eyes.

"He remembered." She whispered softly.

"Of course I remembered."

Cora spun around to the sound of Oliver's voice. He had their son already in his high chair and their daughter snug in her bouncer, all without her ever knowing he was even there.

Oliver walked up to her and pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Happy Anniversary, Mrs. Queen."

Cora beamed up at him through tears. "Happy Anniversary, Mr. Queen."

Oliver bent down and kissed her lips softly.

Cora couldn't have asked for a better outcome to their fairy tale.

* * *

**Author's Note: I know this might seem like a cheap cop-out, ending the story five years later, but I wanted to finish it for you guys and I would rather give you guys one amazing last chapter, instead of ten half-assed chapters that don't really go together, you know? So I hope this satisfies those that have read this story since the beginning.**

**Edit: Mags of Silver asked if the kids had names... and honestly? I didn't really pick any out, because my brain was on the fritz. xD So no, the children don't have official names. :)**


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